


The World's Wide Open (And Waiting For Me)

by Brackenfire



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: AU, BrackenClan - Freeform, DuskClan, Gen, Prophecies, ShoreClan - Freeform, StarClan is still cryptic as ever, Stolen idea, all hail moonkitti, breezeclan, go watch her videos, idea from moonkitti, intermingling clans, no betas we die like men, no borders, open borders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:43:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackenfire/pseuds/Brackenfire
Summary: The Clans dissolved their borders moons ago, and conflict between them has been all but forgotten. However, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Stormflight's having visions that he can't understand, a kit is dropped into the midst, secrets are being kept and rumors are being spread. Nothing is as it seems anymore - will the arrival of a creature that's only existed in elder's tales threaten their longstanding peace? Or will the Clans tear themselves apart before the wild has a chance to?For you see, Stormflight, you cannot see the shadows when you stare into the sun.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Allegiances

**Author's Note:**

> So the idea for this whole society *obligatory society joke* came from Moonkitti on YouTube. Here's the link to the video:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MpMm0Arlp2w
> 
> She says (either in the comments or the video itself, I can't remember) that it's fine with her to use this idea for fanfictions and stuff, but I do want to give credit where credit is due.
> 
> I don't have a whole lot of plans for where I want this to go, but I want to do something with it. These are the same (mostly) characters from "Some Storms" but in an AU because I love my children and I didn't want to make new children so I used my old children.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll update this if anything changes - I've got some filler cats to make still which is why some of the Clans are super tiny.

_ Open borders – any cat can come and go to whichever Clan they please. An apprentice can choose to train in any Clan to learn their hunting/fighting techniques. Each Clan has their own (up to three) medicine cat(s), one mediator, and (up to two) messenger(s), to bring news to and from each Clan. Gatherings are still a thing. Siblings may choose to train in different Clans. Mates can be part of different Clans, and kits may choose to be part of a third. _

**((Born Clan:**

**BC - BreezeClan**

**BrC - BrackenClan**

**SC - ShoreClan**

**DC - DuskClan))**

**BrackenClan**

LEADER

  * Tuftystar – fuzzy dust-colored tom with fluffy tufts of fur on his ears



DEPUTY

  * Applebranch – ginger tom



MEDIATOR

  * Aspenbloom – dusty she-cat with amber eyes



MESSENGER

  * Jaysong – long-legged gray tom, blue eyes



MEDICINE CAT

  * Stormflight – gray tom, black tail-tip, green eyes



WARRIORS

  * Sweetriver – white she-cat with soft blue eyes
  * Sunfur- ginger tom with amber eyes
  * Oakpelt – big tabby tom with white paws and chest 
    * Barkpaw – brown tom with black points (BC)
  * Badgerheart – black and white tom
  * Twisttail – limber brown she-cat
  * Flowerwish – gray she-cat (SC)
  * Junipertail – wiry brown she-cat (BC)
  * Skyleap – creamy she-cat, gold eyes
  * Tipsky – gray she-cat with white chest, paws, tail tip, and face 
    * Mudpaw – tabby tom with dark stripes (SC)
  * Firefall – ginger tom with green eyes
  * Talonslash – big tabby tom 
    * Ivypaw – white and gray she-cat (DC)
  * Duststripe – tabby she-cat 
    * Birdpaw – black she-cat (DC)
  * Whiskerfur – white tom
  * Foxtail – ginger tom with white paws and tail



QUEENS

  * Flywing – fluffy gray she-cat (mother to Goldenkit, Flamekit, and Leafkit)



ELDERS

  * Splashheart – blue tom with white paws and tail-tip
  * Flowerear – tabby she-cat



**ShoreClan**

LEADER

  * Riverstar – delicate gray she-cat



DEPUTY

  * Heathersong – gray and white she-cat



MESSENGER

  * Frogleap – muddy brown tom with white points



MEDIATOR

  * Butterflyfoot – white she-cat with gray paws



MEDICINE CAT

  * Fawnstep – tiny brown she-cat with a white chest and paws, amber eyes. 
    * Apprentice: Midnightpaw – solid black she-cat, green eyes



WARRIORS

  * Willowtwist – gray she-cat with blue eyes
  * Sorrelfly – ginger she-cat (BC)
  * Flamethroat – black tom with white spot on his throat 
    * Timberpaw – brown she-cat
  * Mouseleap – small gray she-cat (BC)
  * Whiskersplash – black and white tom
  * Flowerfoot – gray she-cat with white points
  * Rabbittail – white tom with stumpy tail (DC)
  * Copperclaw – dark orange tom
  * Orchidpaw – white she-cat with gray tail and paws, blue eyes (DC)
  * Gorsenose – dilute tortoiseshell she-cat



QUEENS

  * Nightsong – ginger and white she-cat (kits: Dandelionkit, Skykit, Brackenkit – adopted: two Shore/Breeze kits)



ELDERS

  * Huntclaw – young brown tom, retired due to injury



**DuskClan**

LEADER

  * Furzestar – dirty brown tom with unruly fur and a temper



DEPUTY

  * Snakestrike – brown tomcat with dark stripes, green eyes



MESSENGER

  * Bluetail – blue she-cat



MEDIATOR

  * Palebloom – dilute tortoiseshell she-cat



MEDICINE CAT

  * Echobreeze – blind gray she-cat



WARRIORS

  * Whisperbreeze – tabby and white she-cat
  * Graywing – gray tom
  * Sparrowpaw – white tom (BC)
  * Dusksoul – black she-cat
  * Cloudtouch – white tom with black ears
  * Iceheart – white and gray tom
  * Thistlepaw – tabby tom
  * Timberfur – brown mottled tom (SC)
  * Mudsnout – brown tom (SC)
  * Thornblossom – white she-cat with black paws
  * Brackenfire – tabby tom
  * Yewpaw – tortoiseshell tom
  * Skyfeather – black and white she-cat (BC)
  * Tallshadow – long-legged black she-cat



ELDERS

  * Darkshadow – black tom
  * Roseleaf – tabby she-cat



**BreezeClan**

LEADER

  * Whitestar – huge snow-white tom



DEPUTY

  * Lynxtail – dilute tortoiseshell she-cat with a tuft of fur at the tip of her tail and thick neck fur



MESSENGER

  * Maplewish – red and white she-cat, gold eyes



MEDIATOR

  * Kestrelclaw – black and brown tom with long claws



MEDICINE CAT

  * Willowfur – fuzzy gray she-cat



WARRIORS

  * Chestnutfur – brown tom 
    * Petalpaw – gray and white she-cat (BrC)
  * Snowbreeze – white and ginger she-cat with blue eyes 
    * Featherpaw – gray she-cat (DC)
  * Redpelt – ginger tom
  * Eagleshadow – black tom
  * Robinspots – brown and white she-cat
  * Addersnap – red-brown tom (BrC)
  * Beeflight – dark tabby tom (DC)
  * Waspwing – tuxedo tom
  * Harefrost – white she-cat
  * Dapplepelt – mottled black and white tom
  * Rushsplash – brown tom (SC)



QUEENS

  * Starlingheart – black and white tuxedo she-cat (kits: Sparrowkit, Pouncekit, Emberkit, Dawnkit)
  * Daisyfern – tabby and white she-cat (kits: Rainkit, Rabbitkit)



ELDERS

  * Ferretscar – brown tom with a long scar down his face
  * Wasptail – black and gray she-cat




	2. Chapter 1

Stormflight glanced up as Badgerheart’s black and white head poked into his den.

“Please don’t tell me you’re hurt,” he sighed. “I don’t have any more horsetail to deal with that tonight, not after the apprentices took that tumble down the rocks earlier.”

“Not that.” His eyes shone. “Jaysong’s back! Come hear his report!”

Excitement fizzed suddenly in Stormflight’s wide gray paws and he hurriedly shoved the blackberry he was stripping back into its hole in the knotted root. “I’ll be out in a moment,” he meowed, washing his paws in the water that collected underneath his hollow stump. “Go on.”

Badgerheart needn’t be told twice. As the ferns swished with his departure, Stormflight paused to pull a leaf scrap from between his toes. Letting the water run around his paws as he flexed his claws, he wondered dimly how his sister was doing. He hadn’t seen her since the Gathering two moons prior, as she had been absent from the last one.

His heart still ached as he remembered the discussion had between them just before she’d left for BreezeClan, when she’d spilled her plans to him.

“I want to run!” she insisted, claws tearing up the dirt. Stormflight, then still Stormpaw, had stared at her in shock. _Go to BreezeClan?_

“Wait, so—you’re leaving?” he asked. “After training for so long here?”

Petalpaw’s excited gaze had flickered, but then shook her head like clearing cobwebs. “I already cleared it with Firefall—he said he understands,” she insisted. “And it’s only been five moons—I’ll be okay! I won’t have to relearn a lot of stuff.”

“Petalpaw, are you sure you’re not making this decision too—rashly?” he pressed, fear pounding against his ribcage like a trapped bird. “Like Pikepaw—he came here, got too overwhelmed, and ended up going back to ShoreClan two moons in.”

“I _know_ ,” Petalpaw mewed, almost cutting him off, green eyes sharpening. “But this is what I want!” Frustration softened into hurt. “Are you going to support me, or aren’t you? You spent a moon training with Echobreeze and Fawnstep—I thought you would understand.”

Stormflight sighed, licking stray droplets from his toes. _I hope she’s doing alright. I wonder if she’s already a warrior. That would be embarrassing if I got my full name before her. Medicine cats usually don’t finish their training as quickly as I did._

The sudden reminder of his late mentor, claimed by sickness and old age, struck him like a battle blow, and his pelt spiked with loss ripped open anew. He had been Stormpaw for another three days before the half-moon, and Pinefrost had bestowed his name in a dream. Stormflight closed his eyes and stood in the silence of his den for a long moment before recalling— _Jaysong’s back._

Turning, he hurried from his den, pushing out into the dusky late-day light. Surrounded by his Clanmates, it was easy to smother his still-raw grief for Pinefrost in shared tongues and prey. It was harder to hide from his own thoughts in the lonesome silence of his nest.

Jaysong stood proudly atop the lowest branch of the Tallspruce, only two tail-lengths above the heads of his Clanmates. Tuftystar sat beside him, tail wrapped neatly around his paws.

Stormflight dropped beside his father Talonslash and his apprentice Ivypaw, a gray and white she-cat who had been born in DuskClan but elected to train in BrackenClan. Talonslash headbutted his son affectionately.

“Haven’t seen much of you today,” he greeted.

“Duty calls,” Stormflight joked. “I had to take care of all of the apprentices—hopefully their soreness deters them from going rock-hopping again.”

Ivypaw, the only apprentice who hadn’t gone on the adventure, forlornly scuffed the dirt. “I wish I hadn’t been on patrol,” she muttered, earning Talonslash’s tail flicking her ears.

“You saw the scolding Birdpaw, Barkpaw, and Mudpaw got,” he berated. “I wouldn’t have been as lenient as their mentors.”

“Where did you go today?” Sunfur called to the messenger, effectively shushing the rest of the Clan, who were still murmuring. Jaysong flicked his tail.

“I spent most of the day with BreezeClan on the moors,” he called back. Stormflight sat up a little straighter. Talonslash’s ears pricked.

“Did you see Petalpaw?” the big tabby called out before Stormflight could.

“I did!” Jaysong purred. “She’s set to have her warrior assessment soon, according to Chestnutfur!”

Talonslash rumbled a purr, touching Stormflight’s shoulder with his tail. “It’s good to know that both of my kits are doing so well.”

_It is good to know,_ Stormflight thought. He missed his sister more than he was able to put into words.

“I spoke to Daisyfern”—this was directed at Whiskerfur, her mate—“and she said that Willowfur told her that she’ll have her kits in the next quarter moon.”

“Wow!” Foxtail good-naturedly shoved his brother, who looked a little shocked. “You’re going to be a father!”

Whiskerfur purred loudly. “I’ll go visit her tomorrow,” he announced to no cat in particular.

“Congratulations, Whiskerfur!” Tipsky praised, echoed from many cats around the clearing.

“I still think it’s ridiculous,” came a quiet snort from behind Stormflight, almost muffled by the cheers. He didn’t have to turn to know it was crotchety old Flowerear, one of the few cats who still hadn’t accepted the dissolving of the borders. “Having a mate with a cat from another Clan— _pah!_ Back when _I_ was a warrior, we weren’t _allowed_ to fly on the wings of whimsy.”

“The times have changed,” Splashheart agreed, voice roughened with age. He hadn’t been very old when he’d retired, but his age was starting to show in the graying around his muzzle and weakening of his shoulders. “Maybe it’s for the better. We’re thriving more than we ever had before.”

Stormflight’s mother, Skyleap, had been pregnant with him and Petalpaw when the four leaders—Tuftystar, Riverstar, Furzestar, and Whitestar—had made the decision, after much council and deliberation, to dissolve the borders between the Clans and create a more unified society. Each Clan still lived in their own respective territories, but cats were free to come and go as they pleased. Most still chose to declare one Clan as their own and stay there, but no longer were inter-Clan friendships, relationships, and meetings forbidden, as they had been in the past.

Cats could take mates from whatever Clan they so desired, and the kits would be raised with their mother until they were old enough to pick a Clan to live in. While some chose to stay close to their families, others chose to train in different Clans, learning their hunting and fighting styles. Each Clan had its own messenger or messengers, to take information from camp to camp, request help if necessary, and keep each posted on the lives of the others. Things were quite peaceful around the lake, and little had disturbed it in a long while.

Many cats, however, still clung to the old customs, the old strict code that Stormflight had never been privy to—the code that prevented cats from visiting other Clans, taking mates in them, training in others, and forbidding border crossing. Warriors and apprentices from separate Clans weren’t allowed to train together, stay in each other’s camps, or go on patrols. Prey could only be caught on the land of one’s birth Clan.

_I can’t imagine a world with closed borders,_ Stormflight thought, glancing around at his current Clanmates. There was Flowerwish, from ShoreClan, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Junipertail from BreezeClan. Talonslash’s apprentice Ivypaw was from DuskClan, while her sister Orchidpaw was in ShoreClan, and brother Thistlepaw had remained behind in their birth home. _If I was only able to know and be with the cats born into BrackenClan? I would go crazy._

Badgerheart, Jaysong’s littermate, had trained to be a warrior in DuskClan, and had returned home after receiving his warrior name. Stormflight himself had trained with the DuskClan and BreezeClan medicine cats for a short period of time, before returning to care for Pinefrost, whose health had been rapidly declining.

It was often difficult for mothers to let their kits leave to other Clans, but the messengers between the Clans kept them posted on the status of their families and put many minds to ease.

“DuskClan reports a fox on their border, so keep an eye out,” Jaysong continued, drawing Stormflight back to the present. “And BreezeClan and ShoreClan have come to an agreement on their custody argument over Hawkshadow and Leopardnose’s kits. Finally,” he added under his breath.

An uneasy ripple spread through the camp. Stormflight’s fur stood along his spine. The pair had been mauled by dogs just outside of ShoreClan’s outer territory boundary. They both had been brought back to ShoreClan’s medicine den, and messengers had sprinted to the other three camps to fetch all other medicine cats. They hadn’t made it fast enough—Stormflight, who had been the furthest away, had burst into camp to find the Clan grieving.

“Wasn’t Leopardnose from BreezeClan?” Ivypaw asked softly, bright eyes glancing up at her mentor. “Shouldn’t the kits go to them then?”

“Ideally, but BreezeClan doesn’t have any able nursing queens,” Stormflight answered for his father. “Starlingheart has her paws full with her four kits - there's no way she'd be able to take two more. And Hawkshadow had just as much right to his kits as Leopardnose.”

“ShoreClan will keep the kits,” Jaysong announced, and as arguing meows rose to greet him, he raised his voice to continue: “But Riverstar has said that they will not keep the kits’ heritage a secret, and they will grow up knowing that their parents are from different Clans.”

“I guess that’s all we can ask for,” Talonslash sighed as disagreeing cats voiced their opinions. “The mediators, I think, were all getting tired of arguing about it.”

“You’re telling me,” a new voice from behind Stormflight huffed, and he turned to blink kindly at Aspenbloom. The pretty gray tabby mediator for BrackenClan licked her chest fur as if to calm nerves still frazzled. “If I have to listen to Kestrelclaw and Butterflyfoot fight again in my lifetime, I will drown myself in the lake.”

“That’s about all,” Jaysong finished, after Tuftystar yowled for silence. He jumped down and padded for the fresh-kill pile, Badgerheart meeting him halfway. The meeting broke apart and cats began to mingle. Stormflight stretched and, bidding farewell to his father, headed for Jaysong, who had sunk to the grass with a vole.

“Hey, Jaysong, did you speak to Petalpaw?” he asked, settling down next to the gray tom and Badgerheart. Aspenbloom dropped to the grass between her brothers and began to groom Jaysong’s shoulder fur. Badgerheart headbutted her shoulder affectionately.

“I did,” he responded, blinking wide blue eyes. “She asked after you.”

“How is she? Does she like it on the moor?”

“She seems to have taken to it like a duck does to water,” Jaysong affirmed with a nod, tearing a mouthful out of the vole. “She’s one of the fastest apprentices in the heather.” He purred. “She insisted we race, and she gave me a run for my prey!”

Soothed, Stormflight felt his shoulders relax. “Is she coming to the Gathering this moon?”

Jaysong shook his head, chewing. “I didn’t ask Whitestar. Since she wasn’t there last moon, I’m sure she’ll be at this one.” He yawned hugely, closing his teeth on a tiny vole bone. “Sorry, I’m just exhausted.”

“Finish your dinner and get some rest.” Stormflight stood. “Direct order from your medicine cat,” he added playfully. With that, he dipped his head to the trio of siblings and headed back for his den. Irritation tugged at his chest when he saw a familiar black she-cat hesitating near the mouth of the hollow stump.

“What’s going on, Birdpaw?” he asked tiredly. She jerked her head around like he startled her.

“Well—I was just wondering if you’d check my shoulder again.” Birdpaw glanced nervously up at him and then back at the dirt. “My paw still hurts.”

Stormflight sighed. “Come inside.”

“Birdpaw, go to sleep,” Stormflight growled that night as a pawstep sounded behind him. He didn’t pause from where he was reorganizing his tansy. “I’m not giving you any more poppy seeds. I’m not stupid, I know they’re not for Barkpaw.”

At no response, Stormflight turned, ready to scold her, just to find the faintest outline of a cat silhouetted in moonlight and starshine. It was a very slight she-cat with a long tail. One paw was raised, and her mouth was open like she was speaking, although he heard nothing but wind.

“Who—are you?” Stormflight stammered. _I don’t think I fell asleep, did I? Is this a dream?_ “Do you need something from me?”

Her mouth moved again, her tail flicked, and she turned. As she faced back toward the entrance to the medicine den, a shaft of moonlight struck her form and she vanished like smoke.

“Wait!” Stormflight abandoned his tansy and hurried to where she’d stood, pushing past the ferns at the mouth of his den. And he gasped.

The clearing in BrackenClan’s camp was stuffed full of starry figures, some barely there, some more opaque. As he watched, they moved about like living Clan cats, sharing tongues, stocking the fresh-kill pile, kits tumbling and play-fighting under the paws of starry warriors.

The narrow she-cat that had been in his den jumped up on the lowest branch of the Tallspruce. A starry figure stepped _through_ Stormflight, sending a chill to the roots of his pelt, and sat down just in front of him.

The she-cat who he assumed to be the leader opened her jaws wide in a yowl that Stormflight couldn’t hear. Stormflight stepped slowly forward, moving between figures, his eyes on the featureless she-cat. _What am I seeing? Who are you?_

As she started to speak, the Clan settling beneath her, several heads suddenly turned toward the bracken tunnel. Stormflight did too, and the cat that pushed through was much larger than any cat he’d seen before. He wasn’t starry like the rest of the silhouettes, but quite opaque and made seemingly of shadow. Stormflight caught a flash of huge gold eyes that made him inhale sharply.

“What the—?” he began to himself, bristling.

“Great StarClan, Stormflight!”

As if the voice was a trigger, in a blink, the vision was gone. Stormflight leapt backwards as he found himself face-to-face with a fluffed-up Firefall, whose orange fur was standing on end. Stormflight had obviously not been asleep—they were both very much awake, if the chill biting at his ears was any indication.

“You snuck right up on me,” he hissed, relaxing from where he was poised on his toes. “You’re going to give a cat a heart attack.”

“S-Sorry,” he stammered, glancing quickly around the clearing. It was empty of any and all starry figures. “I didn’t—see you there.”

“Didn’t _see me?”_ Firefall tipped his head. “Stormflight, are you alright? I’m the only cat out here. I’ve been here since sunset.”

“No—you’re right.” Stormflight shook off the last remaining chills that stuck to his pelt. “I’m sorry, I’m just…tired.”

The excuse came out sounding more like a question than a statement, but if Firefall noticed, he didn’t comment on it. Stormflight silently thanked StarClan for it.

“Well, what are you out and about for, then?” he inquired, wide green eyes reflecting the nearly halved moon. Stormflight looked up as the reflection drew his attention, and he examined Silverpelt as it twinkled merrily around the moon.

“Just came out for some fresh air,” Stormflight sighed. _I wonder which star is you, Pinefrost. If you were still here, I could talk to you about my vision. We could puzzle it out together._

Firefall glanced up at the sky, too, and then turned back to the medicine cat. “The den always seems a lot bigger when a Clanmate leaves it, doesn’t it?” he offered gently. “Whether they just go across the lake, or if they go further.”

The cold was chased away as an embarrassed heat spread under his pelt. _Am I that easy to read?_ “Well, I know Petalpaw’s okay. Jaysong said so this evening.”

Firefall blinked kindly. “I don’t think I was talking about Petalpaw, and I’m sure that’s not who you were thinking about, either.”

Stormflight almost forced a purr, but the thought of doing so exhausted him, so he just sat down. Firefall sat next to him, gently grooming his shoulder fur.

“It’s been two moons,” Stormflight sighed. “It shouldn’t still hurt this much.”

“Death isn’t something that a cat just gets over,” Firefall insisted. “I lost my father not long after I received my warrior name. Smokefur was his name—he got greencough that leaf-bare and wasn’t able to fight it off. It was hard to watch Pinefrost treat him when I think even he knew that he wasn’t going to see the next newleaf. I still think about him sometimes, and miss him just as fiercely as I did back then.”

“The fact that this pain won’t go away doesn’t do much to make me feel better,” Stormflight informed him. “If that was your goal.”

“Grief never dulls—we just get better at handling it. In a way, you’re lucky,” he added with a wink. “You can see them at the Starpool. The rest of us are stuck firmly on the ground.”

This time Stormflight did manage to purr, but it felt like it was sapping all of his strength to do so. He stood and dipped his head to Firefall. “I’ll let you get back to your watch. I need to get some sleep.”

“Rest easy, young one,” Firefall bade him, turning his gaze back to the bracken tunnel. Stormflight pushed back into his den, pausing for just a moment to look back into the clearing.

_Was that she-cat trying to get my attention?_ he thought. _Or was it her own medicine cat? And what was with that big cat in the clearing? Firefall didn’t seem to notice anything, so much so that I was able to sneak up on him. What if I just dreamed it? Am I so tired that I hallucinated the whole thing? It didn’t even make sense._

No more soothed, Stormflight curled up in his nest, wriggling to flatten the goose feathers that lined it. He stared at his long-abandoned tansy. Despair tugged at his lungs.

_Did it even happen at all?_


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I have quite a bit of this written, but since I live in Ohio (which is all but completely closed, thanks Mike DeWine) and am still in university (which is all online now) I'm going to keep my publishing scant just to make what I have written last a little while in case things pile up and I don't have time/motivation/energy to write. So here's this!

The next morning dawned clear and chilly, a sure sign that their short greenleaf was coming to an end. Stormflight stepped out of his den after a fitful sleep that lasted long into the morning to find a fat vole laying at the mouth of his den. It smelled strongly of Barkpaw and was still barely warm.

_I bet their mentors have them on camp duties today, after yesterday’s fiasco._ Stormflight picked up the vole, purring appreciatively as its warm flavor spread over his tongue, and glanced around for a spot to eat it. The Flatrock, soaking up much of the late morning sunshine, was occupied by Splashheart and Flowerear sunning themselves. A tiny pile of bones sat next to them, with some dirt half-heartedly scuffed over it.

Firefall was nowhere to be seen, likely sleeping off his watch from the night before. Birdpaw and Mudpaw appeared from the nursery, each pushing pawfuls of old moss out and dragging new in after them. Barkpaw was perched atop a large rock at the edge of the clearing, on his belly as he reached with his forepaws to bat at the long branches of the shrub that made up the apprentice’s den.

Ivypaw was leaving camp hot on the heels of Talonslash, Duststripe, and Foxtail. Tuftystar was talking with his deputy Applebranch near the roots of the Tallspruce, his mate Flywing sitting at his shoulder. She was half-turned, watching as her kits—Goldenkit, Leafkit, and Flamekit—stalked Aspenbloom. She was facing away from them, seemingly occupied, but her cocked ears told Stormflight she was very aware of the looming threat to her tail.

_Seems like most cats are gone,_ Stormflight thought, then picked a sunny spot near the warriors’ den to eat his breakfast. He tucked his paws up under him. _Jaysong probably left already. I wonder if we’ll have a messenger guest today—we haven’t had one in quite some time._

The thought came very suddenly, and he realized just how right he was. The last time they’d had a messenger stay with them was nearly a quarter moon prior, when Frogleap from ShoreClan had spent half a day in their camp. He’d brought news of a cold afflicting ShoreClan, insisting that it was nothing more than runny noses and lots of sneezing that kept kits awake.

Stormflight chewed slowly through the first bite of vole, thinking. _If their sniffles had escalated to something worse, StarClan forbid, I’d think we’d have been notified. We’re closest to ShoreClan, so they’d likely come to us first. No news is good news, right?_

He had nearly finished his vole when the shrub at the entrance shuddered and, as quickly as she’d left, Ivypaw trotted back in. At her heels was Maplewish, a red BreezeClan she-cat. Many heads turned, and, caught off-guard, Aspenbloom was knocked to the ground as the three kits launched at her in unison.

“Greetings,” Tuftystar called, stepping forward, ears perked. “Thank you for escorting her in, Ivypaw—why don’t you get back to your patrol? I’m sure Talonslash won’t want you to dawdle.”

Stormflight stood, swallowing the last of his meal, and hurried forward. “Maplewish, hi,” he called as Ivypaw vanished back out of camp. Applebranch and a bemused Flywing followed behind their leader. The red she-cat met Stormflight’s gaze and perked up. During his stay in BreezeClan, studying with Willowfur, he and then Maplepaw had grown close. After Pinefrost’s death, Stormflight had been too busy to visit, and they’d only been able to speak at Gatherings.

“Stormflight, how are you?” she purred, touching their noses. Her skin was cool and smelled strongly of the wetlands by the lake. “Petalpaw says hello! She’s having her assessment today!”

“Ah, great news!” He purred, kneading the ground. “I hope she’s a warrior by the Gathering!”

“What brings you all the way here, Maplewish?” Applebranch asked, inclining his head. “We haven’t heard from Whitestar or Stagfur lately. Is everything going alright?”

Maplewish paused, the tip of her tail flicking uncertainly as her purr died. Her gold eyes flicked nervously between all the cats looking at her curiously. “Did—wait, Jaysong was with us yesterday—I thought he would have told you.”

“Told us what?” Stormflight insisted, unable to stop a pang of dread that pulsed through his belly.

“S-Stagfur died last quarter moon,” she stammered, her ears flattening. “He spooked a caribou in the foothills, and it crushed his spine.”

A chorus of gasps rose from the assembled and a shocked cry burst from Flywing, gaining more attention from those cats who were milling about in the clearing. Firefall poked his head out of the warriors’ den, squinting blearily.

“Where’s the caribou?” he called tiredly.

“Go back to sleep,” Aspenbloom scolded as she passed, her fur spiked nervously. “There’s no caribou.”

Maplewish shook her head, obviously perplexed. “Jaysong didn’t tell you?”

“No,” Tuftystar exhaled, eyes wide. “Maplewish, I’m so sorry. Please, extend our condolences to his family and to your Clanmates from us.”

She nodded awkwardly. “I will. I’m sorry we haven’t visited—things have been hectic. He didn’t have time to train a new messenger, and it’s taken me a while to get everything down pat.”

“Oh, you’re the new messenger!” Despite his shock, Stormflight was thrilled. “That’s great, Maplewish!”

She dipped her head. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“How are things on the moor?” Tuftystar asked, obviously unnerved by the fact that Jaysong had kept something so crucial a secret.

_It is strange,_ Stormflight thought, excusing himself to return to his den. Aspenbloom took his place. He ducked back through the shrubbery to sort through his stores. The weather was only going to get colder—best to collect herbs now. _The death of a Clanmate should have been the first thing Jaysong reported. He’s got such a good memory there’s no way he forgot._

_Did he keep it a secret on purpose?_

The thought sent chills straight to his toes, and Stormflight shook off the thought. _No, there’s no way. Jaysong wouldn’t have done that. Unless some other cat insisted he did…_

_But that doesn’t make a lot of sense either._

It didn’t take him long to find three empty stores, and he put those as first priority. “I need alder bark, borage, and horsetail,” he meowed aloud. “Alder, borage, horsetail.” He turned and emerged back into the clearing. It was just past sunhigh, and the three apprentices were sharing fresh kill near the entrance to their den.

_I have to remember to check on them tonight._ He trotted across the clearing, pausing when a voice called his name. Turning over his shoulder, he saw Maplewish bounding to him.

“Where are you going?” she inquired.

“I’m off to collect herbs down by the lake,” he answered. “Do you want to come?”

“Definitely,” she purred, tail flicking. “I can’t promise how helpful I’ll be at finding them, though.”

“That’s alright.” He was excited at the thought of spending some real time with his friend, time that wasn’t going to be interrupted by Gathering duties and formalities. “I’m just glad for your company.”

Shoulder-to-shoulder, they padded through the boreal forest, the trees high above them just barely starting to change color in preparation for looming leaf-fall. Stormflight looked up at a sudden rush of air, watching a blackbird soar away.

“What else is new?” he asked, shouldering her gently to the side to avoid a knotted root on the path.

“Well, I’ve, ah…found a mate,” she admitted, her tail kinking over her back joyfully. “I’ve actually been waiting to tell you for a while—I wanted to make sure it was going to work out.”

“That’s wonderful!” Stormflight purred. “Who?”

“Iceheart from DuskClan,” she explained, gold eyes glittering. “Featherpaw is his sister’s kit, and he was the one who brought her to train in BreezeClan not long before Petalpaw came. He stayed for a while and we hit it off before he left, and he came back for Stagfur’s vigil…” She trailed off here, her shoulders slumping slightly. She dropped pace and Stormflight mimicked her, pressing his cheek reassuringly to hers.

“I miss Stagfur so much. I can’t help but feel like I’m not qualified for this,” she admitted into his neck fur. “Stagfur was such a great cat, and a skilled messenger, and we decided on messengers taking apprentices so that this didn’t happen, but he never did. I mean, no cat plans for the worst, so I can’t fault him for that…”

“Whitestar wouldn’t have appointed you the new messenger if he had thought you were incapable,” Stormflight reassured her. “You’re doing a fine job.”

“I got lost going to ShoreClan a few days ago,” she mewed. “I overshot their camp by quite a bit and didn’t even realize until I reached their outer scent markers. The only reason I ended up making it into their camp was because I ran into a hunting patrol. It was _so_ embarrassing!”

He purred amusedly, earning a sheathed cuff around the ears. “Sorry, sorry, I mean it with all the love in the world.” He blinked kindly at her. “I wouldn’t worry, Maplewish. It’ll take some getting used to is all.”

She sighed, scuffing her paws in the dirt. “I guess you’re right. Sorry to be such a downer.”

“Don’t be.” He turned and flicked his tail. “Come on, I’ll show you how to strip bark off a tree.”

They hadn’t made it far before they emerged into a clearing to find a hunting patrol—or, at least, part of it. Oakpelt was standing over the body of a hare, mouth wide open as he tasted the air. He swung around to look at the medicine cat and BreezeClan messenger as they approached.

“Well met,” Stormflight greeted, raising his brows. “Guarding that hare from something?”

“Have you scented or seen anything strange since you left camp?” Oakpelt asked, flicking his tongue. Stormflight wondered just how long he’d been standing there.

“Strange?” Maplewish echoed, tipping her head. “Strange like what?”

“I thought it was a fox at first,” he meowed, dark eyes casting around one more time, “but we found traces of its scent high on a berry bush, much taller than a fox. Twisttail, Sweetriver, and Sunfur went off that way”—he pointed away from the lake with his nose—“to follow its scent trail, and I stayed here with the prey in case it came along and tried to take it.”

“Badger?” Stormflight suggested, making Maplewish bristle.

“Oh, I hope it’s not a badger,” she muttered.

“I’d think that if it were a tree that it could have climbed, but it was a berry bush,” Oakpelt repeated with a sigh. “Well, keep your noses open. If it’s rogues, we need to know.”

“We definitely will,” the medicine cat promised. “We’re headed down to the marshes to find some herbs.”

“Yowl if you need help,” Oakpelt called as they continued along the trail.

Maplewish put her nose to the air not long later. “Do you think that’s it?”

Stormflight tasted the air. It was definitely an unusual scent, but faint—whatever had passed had done so in the night or before. It was heavy and musky in a way that reminded him of a badger, but it didn’t stink enough for one.

“Maybe it was a deer that came through, and it was sick or something,” Stormflight shrugged. “Who knows? I think if it was a threat, we’d have heard about it by now.”

“You’re probably right.” She still looked uneasy. “I guess as a messenger I’ve also got to get used to all these trees, huh?”

“Better for hiding than your barren moor,” Stormflight teased, headbutting her shoulder.

“At least there we get a breeze and it’s not so stuffy,” she taunted back before breaking into a run. “Race you to the shore!”

“No fair, you got a head start!” Stormflight took off running after her, feeling much lighter than he had in a long time.

They were down in the wetlands by the lake, buffeted by a stiff breeze coming off the moorland, when Stormflight heard it.

“Bite the horsetail off close to the ground, but don’t damage the roots or it won’t grow back,” he warned, absently shaking water droplets off his back paw. They had left their gathered alder bark and borage at the top of the rise where the boreal forest ended, then descended the land sloping down to the lakeside. He turned his nose into the wind, taking a deep breath of fresh moor air pouring off the mountains, and heard what sounded like a loud cry.

“Is this enough?” Maplewish mumbled, straightening up with a mouthful of horsetail. Stormflight stretched up, ears rammed forward, but could only hear the wind howling past them.

“Did you hear something?” he asked slowly.

She set down the horsetail, head cocked. “No.”

A shadow plunged over them, causing both cats to look up and reflexively press themselves to the wet ground. A hawk soared low overhead, something clutched in its talons. Stormflight heard that loud shriek again, and looking up, saw the bundle writhe in its talons and lash out with wide paws.

With a pang of horror, he realized it was a kitten.

“It’s got a kit!” he screeched in alarm, throwing himself forward as the hawk pitched wildly, distracted by the kit’s flailing legs.

“Stormflight!” Maplewish yowled, splashing after him. His movement was slow and awkward until he reached dry land, but once his paws touched solid ground he broke into a desperate sprint as he ran along the lakeside. The hawk pitched again, and with a few strong wingbeats soared up higher.

“It’s still alive!” he shouted, meow torn away by the wind.

“Is it a Clan kit? Can you tell?”

“Does it _matter?”_

Maplewish drew up to his side easily, her eyes on the hawk’s form as her legs pumped. “If it drops the kit, it could die from the fall!” she yowled. “We’ve got to catch up!”

As if her words were a trigger, the hawk plummeted a few fox-lengths, now within leaping distance of the ground. Stormflight leapt over a rise, letting out a loud caterwaul. The hawk’s head turned as if just noticing them, and the kit gave another loud, long wail.

Maplewish sprang forward, claws extended, and barely missed the hawk’s tail. The bird soared skyward with a screech, but now only one taloned foot was wrapped around the kit.

“Patrol!” Maplewish called, and just as she shouted it out, a lithe brown figure sprung high out of the grass, front paws stretched out to bat at the hawk. The cat was far too low to actually hit it, but the intended effect didn’t seem to be hunting. Sufficiently startled, the bird finally dropped the kit, who plummeted with a shriek.

A she-cat burst from a clump of shrubbery, racing toward Stormflight and Maplewish, eyes on the kit and ears flattened to her head. Before the medicine cat could even formulate some sort of plan, the she-cat sprung from the ground, reaching out with sheathed paws, collided with the kit, and they both tumbled down the rise and out of sight.

“Harefrost!” Maplewish yelped, drawing up on a rocky outcropping and staring down. Panting hard, Stormflight stumbled to a much clumsier halt beside her. The white she-cat had landed awkwardly on her side and was now caked in mud, but had the mottled kit clutched tightly in her teeth, front legs wrapped around it. Her muddy tail flicked to show she’d heard.

“Are you hurt?” the brown she-cat who had jumped at the hawk called, stepping up beside Stormflight. Her pelt was cold with moor air, blown sleek against her already slight form.

Harefrost shook her head, rolling somewhat awkwardly to her paws. The kit dangled, legs tucked up tight against its body, from her mouth, eyes huge and mouth open as it panted. Carefully, she picked her way up out of the wet, muddy riverbank, hopping from rock to rock until she stood just below the other three cats.

Stormflight started to call out, but instead drew in a mouthful of coppery-flavored air. He fluffed up his fur.

“One of them is bleeding,” he muttered to himself, backing down off the rock and hurrying to the spot he could see Harefrost eyeing. When she started to pull herself up, Stormflight bent down and grabbed the kit’s haunches in his mouth. That earned him a kitten-sharp claw sinking deep into his nose.

Blinking away tears, he swung the kitten up onto solid ground and dropped it gently at his paws, deep into a tuft of thick green grass. The brown she-cat hurried to his side while Maplewish helped pull Harefrost onto flat ground.

“Is it alright?” she demanded.

Stormflight started to lick the kit’s fur fiercely, who was unmoving and silent where it crouched on the ground. It was a tiny she-kit, as far as he could figure. She smelled funny, even past the blood welling on her sides and back. Her ears had long tufts of fur at the tips, her kitten-soft paws were wide with thick claws, and her tail was a tiny nub pressed flat against her haunches. She was a strange looking kitten, for sure.

“She’s in shock,” he said between licks. “How close are we to your camp? Willowfur and I can treat her.”

“Not far,” Maplewish put in, coming up. Harefrost was limping slightly and her fur was stuck up in all directions, caked with mud and grime. “I’ll run ahead and let them know we’re coming.”

“No, I will,” the brown she-cat argued. “If Stormflight is coming back with us, you’d better go let his Clanmates know—it’s going to be dark soon, and the caribou like to move after dusk. He can stay with us tonight.”

An uneasy silence fell on their group, and after a minute of hesitation Maplewish nodded. She touched her nose to Stormflight’s cheek and said, “I’ll grab what of your herbs I can carry on my way.”

“Thank you and be safe!” he shouted after her as she took off running back toward the boreal forest.

“You go on, Robinspots,” Harefrost insisted. “We’ll bring the kit and come along behind.”

“Are you hurt?” Stormflight asked Harefrost as she winced and picked her back leg up off the ground. Robinspots took off at a sprint, disappearing quickly behind tall grass.

“I just bumped my leg on a rock,” she sighed, stretching it out until her toes quivered, then twisted around to lick at it. “It’s not bleeding.”

“I’ll still check it out when we get back to camp,” Stormflight promised. He took the kit back in his teeth and straightened. She was startlingly dense and much heavier than she looked. She dangled limply from his mouth, but gave a pitiful kit growl as her paws left the ground.

“Hush, darling,” Harefrost soothed gently. “We’ll get to camp soon. She’s awfully big,” she added to Stormflight, who nodded wordlessly.

_She’s got to be at least three moons old,_ he thought. _She should be talking, playing, running around on her own by now. She’s likely just in shock—hopefully she opens up once we get her treated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wash your hands


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's interested in the kit and Stormflight doesn't sleep this night either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess since we're all locked up I'll have time to write now, huh.

Willowfur’s den was nestled in a cleft between two huge, flat rocks up against the foothills of the mountains. A tall rock stood in the middle of the camp, which Stormflight recalled functioned the same as BrackenClan’s Tallspruce, although he couldn’t remember what they called it.

Starlingheart was stretched out in the grass next to the nursery, eyes half-closed as she watched her kits wrestle in the fading light. Chestnutfur carried a vole over to her and set it down, then they both tucked into it. Whitestar, Lynxtail, and Kestrelclaw were sitting at the base of the rock in the middle of the clearing, sharing a hare. Robinspots stood at the edge of their group, talking and gesturing with her tail. Redpelt and Daisyfern were sitting with Whiskerfur, who Stormflight recalled not having seen that day. Willowfur was sniffing at Daisyfern’s swollen belly while her mate and brother watched on, both with gleaming pride in their eyes.

They drew little attention as they entered, but the kit, who’d been mewling despondently on and off the whole trek, changed that with a mighty wail. All attention snapped toward them and the clearing fell silent, except for the kits, who were still growling and mewling as they wrestled.

“Stormflight, welcome,” Whitestar called, standing up. “It’s awfully late for a visit. You just missed your sister—she went to her nest a little bit ago.”

“She had her assessment today,” Harefrost explained in his ear, voice tight with tiredness. “I think it went well.”

“What happened to you?” Starlingheart called, rolling to her paws and trotting to her littermate’s side. “You’re caked in mud!”

“I barely beat you here,” Robinspots explained at Harefrost’s quizzical look. “You made good time.”

Most of it had dried in clumps on the walk back, and when Harefrost shook, clods of dirt and dust crumbled off her sleek fur. “I went for a bath down by the lake,” she muttered sarcastically. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Stormflight set the kit down, who lashed out at his nose again and gave a fearsome snarl. Stormflight rolled his eyes.

“Who’s this?” Starlingheart asked, her gaze softening as it fell upon the kit. She bent and nosed the kitten, who was almost pushed over off unsteady paws. A tiny growl burst from behind kitten-sharp teeth. “She’s bleeding!”

“A hawk had her,” Stormflight explained, staring at Willowfur. The medicine cat finally straightened and met his gaze, looked down at the kit, and after a long moment disappeared into her den with a flick of her tail. “Your camp was closest—she needs help.”

“Take her to Willowfur’s den,” Whitestar insisted. “Harefrost and Robinspots can finish filling us in.”

“Come see us afterwards,” Stormflight instructed her, “so we can check that leg.”

She dipped her head. “I will.”

He carried the kit into the medicine den, letting her cry out a greeting. Willowfur had already pushed together a tiny makeshift nest with bracken and moor grasses, and was busy tucking fresh moss into it. Stormflight set the kit down in the bedding, where she slumped to her side and stared around with huge blue eyes.

“Hi, little one,” Willowfur soothed, circling the kit and licking her long fur in long, languid strokes. Stormflight began to nose through her stores, searching for anything to help. He ended up with a tiny thyme leaf and some horsetail.

“Are her wounds still bleeding?” he asked, eyeing a clump of cobwebs hanging in the corner of the den.

“No, they’ve stopped.”

Stormflight turned with the herbs to find Willowfur laid next to the kit, who was digging with wide paws into her belly fur. Tiny growls pervaded the den as she found no milk.

“She’s hungry,” Willowfur murmured as Stormflight started to chew up the horsetail. “We could ask Starlingheart to nurse her tonight, but it won’t be a forever solution.”

“Does she have enough milk between her four kits?” Stormflight asked though a mouthful, gently licking the poultice into the scratches on the kit’s back. Thankfully, they didn’t seem very deep. _The hawk must not have had her for long._

“Well, I have some borage that I can give her for tonight,” Willowfur mused, nuzzling the kit as she growled and pawed at Willowfur’s side. “She’s awfully fierce.”

“How old do you think she is?” he asked.

Willowfur hummed softly. “She looks strange,” she meowed instead. “I’ve never seen a cat with such a small tail, and her paws are awfully big. She’s going to be huge.”

“Her ears remind me of Tuftystar,” Stormflight commented. “I thought she’d be at least three moons with how big she is.”

“She doesn’t act like a kit who’s three moons old.” Willowfur sighed, looking up with bright blue eyes. “Maybe a moon and a half. Two, maximum. She seems pretty young.”

“You think she’s a Clan kit?”

“No.” The response was immediate as she shook her head. “If a kit was born that looked like this we’d know, and if a Clan kit was grabbed by a hawk, there’d be a patrol following it. It was just you and Harefrost, right?”

“Well, I was with Maplewish gathering herbs,” Stormflight corrected. “We chased the hawk onto the moor and ran into Robinspots and Harefrost.” The kit curled up, kneading the moss with tiny sharp claws, and pressed her back into Willowfur’s belly. “Do you think she needs the thyme?”

“I think she’ll be okay. If she doesn’t need it, let's not give it to her. I don't want to upset her belly.” Willowfur stood, and the kit snapped to attention, stumbling to her paws and bumping into the medicine cat’s knees. “I’m going to go talk to Starlingheart.”

“You might have a tagalong,” Stormflight commented, watching as the kitten waddled after Willowfur, stumbling and toddling as it moved. “I think she likes you.”

“I think she’s hungry.” Willowfur sounded indifferent but slowed her pace so that the kitten could bumble between her legs and stare up at her with big blue eyes.

“Smoke!” she burst out. Her voice was high and rough with the edge of a growl, but the word sounded positive. Stormflight’s ears perked up. “Smoke, Smoke!”

“Smoke?” Willowfur echoed, bending to lick the kitten’s head. “My name’s Willowfur, darling.”

The kitten’s wide ears bounced as she tossed her head. She stumbled and would have fallen over if she didn’t catch herself against Willowfur’s leg. “Willow!”

“Yeah, I think I redact my ‘three moons’ guess,” Stormflight sighed, tipping his head. “She’s awful big, though.”

“Look at these paws, she’s going to be a big cat.” Willowfur padded out of the medicine den, leaving Stormflight to follow. Starlingheart was busy ushering her four kits back into the nursery in the fading light of day. Willowfur hurried to catch up, and the kit stumbled, landing on her chin on the ground. Stormflight swooped in and scooped her back to her paws, at which point she looked at him again. Her thick fur around her face was wild in contrast to the poultice-flattened patches on her sides.

“Smoke!” she told him, and then, with startling ferocity, headbutted him.

“You’re interesting, for sure,” he meowed with a wince, blinking stars away. “I’m Stormflight, not Smoke. Who’s Smoke? Is that your mother?” _She’s got to have a mother out there somewhere who’s worried sick about her kit._

“Flight!”

He sighed. “I mean, I suppose Flight works too.”

Willowfur bustled back past him. “I’m going to go get some borage,” she called over her shoulder. “Take her to Starlingheart, won’t you?”

“Willow,” the kit called, swept off her paws as Stormflight grabbed her up in his teeth and carried her, flailing paws and all, to the nursery. “No!”

“Well, it seems like someone feels better,” Starlingheart purred in the half-light of the nursery. Chestnutfur was there, too, curled in a nest next to his mate's. Four fuzzy heads popped out of the nest their father was in, big eyes all staring at the new kit.

“Who’s that?” a reddish kit demanded loudly. “What’s she here for?”

“Emberkit, hush now,” Chestnutfur scolded lightly. “This kit has lost her way, and she’s going to stay with us tonight. You need to stay in this nest with me for now, and let her have some milk.”

“I want some milk!” a brown tom shouted. Stormflight set the flailing kit in the nest with Starlingheart, who gently pushed it toward her exposed belly. She immediately latched on and pressed huge paws into the queen’s belly.

“You just had some mouse, Sparrowkit,” she murmured absently, staring at the kit. “Her teeth and claws are awfully sharp. How old do you think she is?”

“I said three moons, but Willowfur guesses not even half of that.” Stormflight sniffed at the kit’s flanks. “I’ll be in the medicine den with Willowfur; come get one of us if something changes with her—if she gets hot or cold, if she won’t sleep, if she vomits, anything. I’m worried the hawk damaged her insides.”

“Can we play with her?”

“Dawnkit, Pouncekit, get _back in the nest._ ”

Stormflight held out a paw to stop the two inquisitive kits, one gray and one white mottled, from crawling all over the fuzzy kit. “Let’s leave her alone, hmm? You don’t like to get bothered during dinner, do you?” he prodded.

Pouncekit looked properly chastised and Dawnkit mutely shook her head. Chestnutfur picked Dawnkit up with one paw, and Pouncekit clambered after her sister and father.

“Have you thought about naming her?” Starlingheart asked. “You were the first to spot her, after all—she might be dead without you.”

Stormflight hesitated, heart pounding. _That’s on me? I hadn’t thought about a name…_

“Well—I—Maplewish and Harefrost and Robinspots helped,” he stammered lamely.

“We can’t call her ‘kit’ forever,” Starlingheart continued, glancing up with inquisitive green eyes. “Sleep on it. We can help you think in the morning.”

Awkwardly, Stormflight dipped his head and hurried back out of the nursery before he could put his tail any further in his mouth. _I haven’t thought about a name! I was more worried about making sure she was okay, and now I have to think of a name?_

 _Plus, where is she going to go?_ Stormflight stepped out of the way as Willowfur pushed into the nursery with a mouthful of borage. _Starlingheart can’t nurse her forever. ShoreClan just took in Leopardnose and Hawkshadow’s kits. DuskClan doesn’t have any more nursing queens—Yewkit is going to be apprenticed before the moon is out; Echobreeze said he’s not nursing anymore._

_That really leaves…Flywing._

Maplewish pushed into camp, disrupting his train of thought, and he waved his tail at her. They met in the middle of the clearing, at the base of the tall rock.

“Your Clanmates send their regards,” Maplewish told him, touching his nose. “I took the horsetail back to your camp, and Tuftystar sent the apprentices to get our alder and borage.” Her gaze became nervous. “You’re not leaving tonight, right? The caribou are moving in the foothills—they like to come down to the flatlands to graze in the evenings…”

_She’s worried about what happened to Stagfur._ He glanced around the camp, where almost every cat was gathered, and an air of terseness was ever present. _They all are._

“No, I’ll stay,” he affirmed with a nod. _No need to worry them by leaving tonight._ _Plus, I have to stay for the kit._

“How’s the kitten?” Maplewish asked as if reading his thoughts. Or maybe she was thinking about her all day too.

“Starlingheart offered to nurse her for tonight, but it’s not a permanent solution. We either need to find out where she came from or take her to another queen.”

“There’s no way to determine where she came from,” Maplewish dismissed, shaking her head. “That hawk could have come from anywhere, and there’s no telling how far it flew before we saw it. Plus, since no one was following the hawk, chances are that her mother assumed her dead anyway.” She hesitated. “If I’d seen a hawk grab a kit, I’d probably make that assumption too.”

“Flywing’s kits are about her age,” Stormflight continued. “I could take her with me to BrackenClan and nurse her there. Did you tell my Clanmates about her?”

“Vaguely,” she meowed apologetically. “I didn’t want to dawdle since the sun was setting.”

“That’s fine, I understand.” He yawned. “Starlingheart asked if I’d thought of a name for her.”

“Have you?”

Stormflight shook his head. Exhaustion pulled at his paws as he watched Silverpelt wink into existence. “I’m sorry, Maplewish, can we talk about this in the morning? I really need some sleep.” _Since I didn’t get a lot last night anyway._

She dipped her head. “Sure. I forgot you’re not used to running all over the territories.” Her eyes sparkled as she touched his ear with her nose. “Get some rest. I’ll bring you and Willowfur some breakfast before I leave in the morning. I’m headed to DuskClan tomorrow—we haven’t heard from them in a while.”

He bade her goodnight and disappeared back into the medicine den. Willowfur had expanded the nest he’d initially dropped the kit in to fit his long legs and was busy kneading her own nest.

“You look dead on your paws,” she teased, blue eyes shining. “Bet you’re glad the half moon is tomorrow and not tonight.”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” he sighed, dropping easily into the nest. It smelled of the cold mountain air, and the moss was fluffy and soft. “Goodnight, Willowfur.”

“Get some good rest, Stormflight.”

Which StarClan, _clearly_ , did not want him to do.

Stormflight awoke with a jolt sometime after moonhigh, as if he’d been jabbed in the ribs and startled awake. He sat up, bewildered by his unfamiliar surroundings. Willowfur snorted in her sleep, pulling him to reality and making him huff in frustration.

_I was having a great sleep, too,_ he thought. He rose, stretched, turned in a circle, and prepared to lie back down before a loud meow from the clearing caught his attention.

_Is some cat awake?_ He stepped out of the nest, stretching each leg in turn, and padded out into the clearing, bracing himself for another strange vision. Standing in the clearing were two cats—one was the same sort of transparent, starry figure he had seen the night before in BrackenClan’s camp. They were looking up at a more opaque, shadowy figure, easily twice their size or larger.

_It’s like the cat I saw coming through the bracken tunnel,_ he realized with a sharp inhale. As he watched, the two cats seemed to share a discussion, after which the smaller cat leapt up onto the tall rock in the clearing. Like before, the clearing was suddenly full of more cats, sitting and looking up at their leader.

Stormflight stared at the big cat this time, pushing out into the clearing. He strained his ears as the leader’s mouth moved, and this time he could barely—just _barely—_ catch a couple of words.

_“…joining our…a warrior._ ”

_That big cat’s a warrior?_ Stormflight felt his mouth fall open. _I’d hate to face him in battle._

“Stormflight?”

He turned, expecting Willowfur, but caught sight of a lithe brown tom with white markings on his face. He looked confused—his outline was so dark Stormflight would have mistaken him for a living warrior were it not for the starshine around his paws. Even so, it still took Stormflight a moment to recognize him.

“Stagfur?” he asked, perplexed.

His eyes lit up. “Ah, you can see me! Fantastic!” He trotted forward, pausing just in front of the medicine cat. “StarClan’s been insisting I have to come back and talk to some cat, but no one here has been able to see me. I thought I was doing something wrong, but apparently I was just waiting on you!”

“Talk to some cat?” he echoed. “What about?”

Stagfur’s excitement faded and he looked quite solemn all at once. His gaze drifted. “About that, of course.”

Stormflight turned to look at the scene that was frozen behind him, of the massive outline of the cat. “What am I seeing?”

“Shadows, my friend.”

Moonlight spilled into the hollow, slicing through the cat shapes and vanishing all of them. A loud yowl split the silence of the night.

_“You traitor!”_

Stormflight felt a cold chill grab his heart with taloned claws. He turned to look at Stagfur, whose eyes had gone white and glew like the moon.

“For you see, Stormflight,” he rumbled, and his voice held the echoes of others behind it, “you cannot see the shadows when you stare into the sun.”

And then he was awake.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kit gets a name, Stormflight gets irritated, and no cat gets any answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's longer, since I (almost) feel bad about dragging it out XD

“I came to check on the kit,” Stormflight called in, poking his head into the nursery. Starlingheart was sitting up in her nest, watching the fuzzy mottled she-kit as she tottled after Pouncekit, who was stomping about the nursery.

“Stormflight, come in,” Starlingheart greeted him, tail twitching. “Chestnutfur took the rest of the kits out on an adventure to the warriors’ den, but Pouncekit stayed to play with your little one.”

The kit turned and fixed fierce blue eyes on him. “Flight!”

“Hi there,” he greeted, bending to let her headbutt him. Prepared now, it hurt less than it did the day before. “Do you have a name?”

She stared at him for a long time, and then stood up on strong back legs and batted at his whiskers. “Pounce,” she said, turning to face Pouncekit. “Kit.”

“Yes!” Pouncekit bounced up and down, and then reached out to bat at the air in front of the kit. “Pounce-kit!”

“Pounce-kit!” she echoed, ending in a growl as she bounced toward the white kit.

“Well, I think she’s getting the hang of two-part names now,” Stormflight suggested. “I don’t know if she understands when I ask her what her name is, though.”

“Have you thought of something to call her?”

Stormflight hesitated. He had, but saying it out loud felt silly now. “W-Well, I, uh… I like Wildkit.”

“Wildkit?” Starlingheart echoed, brows raising. Her tail tip tapped the ground.

“She came from the wilds past the territory,” he suggested, “and Hawkkit isn’t as unique as she is.”

She nodded. “Wildkit it is, then.”

“Did you hear that?” Pouncekit said, stopping to look up at Stormflight. “That’s your name! Wildkit!”

She gave a growl that sounded like it _could_ have been a word, but not anything that was sensical to Stormflight. Then she turned and stared at him. “Flight.”

“Should she be saying more words than just that?” Stormflight asked Starlingheart nervously. “All I’ve heard from her is Flight, Willow, and _no._ ”

The queen shook her head. “Kits babble for a while before they start speaking coherently,” she explained. “If she’s just a little over a moon old, she’s right where she should be. In the next half-moon or so, she should start talking more. Just keep talking to her like you would any other cat, and she’ll get there.”

“I’ve got some stuff to do before we leave, Wildkit, so behave, okay?” he instructed, bending to touch his nose to her head. She growled and chirped again.

“You’re taking her?” Pouncekit exclaimed, distressed. She flattened her ears. “No! You can’t go!”

“Pouncekit,” Starlingheart warned. Wildkit stared at Pouncekit and then up at Stormflight.

“Smoke no leave,” she mewled, shaking her head.

“Smoke?” Starlingheart echoed.

“She was saying ‘Smoke’ all day yesterday, too,” he said slowly. “I don’t know who Smoke is.”

“Wildkit, honey,” Starlingheart called. Wildkit turned to face her. “Go to Smoke. Can you do that?”

Wildkit looked at her for a long time, then tipped her head. “Smoke gone.”

_It’s not her name either, then._ “Gone?” Stormflight sat down. “Where’d they go?”

“Away.” Wildkit’s ears drooped and her tiny tail tucked tighter against her body. She padded up to Stormflight and sat against his chest. “Smoke away.”

“Could Smoke be her mother?” Starlingheart drew Pouncekit close to her, and the white she-kit sat obediently between her mother’s front paws, disheartened. “If she went away…” She left the thought unfinished, but he knew what she was thinking.

“It’s possible,” Stormflight sighed. “She called Willowfur Smoke, and seemed to realize that Willowfur was a she-cat too.”

“Go do what you need to do,” the queen insisted as she saw Stormflight glance over his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye on Wildkit until you leave.”

“Thank you, Starlingheart, I appreciate you.” He stood, licked Wildkit’s ears, and pulled out of the nursery. _I want to talk to Maplewish before she leaves if I can catch her… If not, I’ll just settle for Whitestar—he’s more pressing anyway._

“Stormflight!”

He barely had time to turn at the sound of pawsteps before someone barreled into him and sent them both tumbling across the clearing. He hit the ground with a yelp and the cat on top of him slammed her paws onto the ground on either side of his head.

“You’re here!” she shouted. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Petalpaw!” Blinded by the sun in his eyes, Stormflight purred heartily. “Let me up, you massive mouse-brain!”

His sister stepped off of him and barely gave him time to react before she shoved her cheek against his. “How have you been?” she exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

“You were out like a log,” he teased, rubbing along her side and purring. “I doubt you’ve gotten any lighter of a sleeper.”

Her gray and white pelt was sleek and her frame starting to mimic the narrow build of moor-born cats. She was just as tall as he was, but there was a delicate strength to her frame that he lacked. Her bright eyes shone in the early morning sun as she looked him over.

“Don’t act like you don’t sleep like a rock, either,” she taunted, dropping into a crouch, waggling her hindquarters. “How’re Mama and Papa?”

“They’re good—Talonslash got another apprentice,” he joked, rolling his eyes. “Big surprise there. Ivypaw’s from DuskClan. Mom’s been busy helping Flywing with her kits—you know how she gets with first-time queens.”

“I do,” she laughed. “Weeeell… I had my assessment yesterday!”

“Harefrost said it went well?” he prompted.

“It did!” She bounced on her toes. “My ceremony is this evening! Are you staying for it?”

Stormflight hesitated. A playful shriek echoed from the nursery. “Well, that’s complicated.” Concisely, he told her about his encounter with the hawk the evening before, and then everything about Wildkit.

“I heard Dawnkit talking about a new kit in the nursery, but I had no idea what she was talking about.” Petalpaw tipped her head. “I’ll go visit in a little while; Chestnutfur has me on camp duties today, so I’ll end up there eventually. What are you going to do with her?”

“I guess take her to Flywing,” he suggested with a shrug. “Her kits are about Wildkit’s age—uh, I think.”

Petalpaw’s tail kinked. “You _think?_ You’re a medicine cat—shouldn’t you _know?_ ” she pressed.

“Wildkit isn’t like a normal kit,” Stormflight warned. “You’ll see what I mean. I’m going to talk to Whitestar—I assume Maplewish already left, I don’t see her—and then probably head out before it gets late—go to the nursery before I do.”

Petalpaw shook her head. “Alright, but I don’t see how she could be different. Kits are kits are kits.”

“Trust me.” Stormflight ducked past her. “I’ll say ‘bye before I leave, okay?”

Petalpaw meowed in agreement and headed for the nursery. Stormflight approached Whitestar, who was sitting at the base of the central rock and looking through slitted eyes toward the edge of camp. They opened fully as Stormflight approached.

“Did you sleep well?” he greeted.

“Yeah, of course,” he lied. “Can I talk to you for a moment, Whitestar? Uh—privately?”

The leader seemed perplexed, but nodded and lead the way to a low-growing bush on the edge of the clearing. The sides were woven together with brambles and bracken, creating a shallow but warm den inside. He sat on his nest and curled his tail over his paws.

“What did you need?” the big tom asked. In the tightness of the den, his imposing frame seemed that much bigger.

“Well, I wanted to ask about something that struck me as odd.” Stormflight scratched his ear. “When Jaysong came back to our camp after staying with you for the day, he didn’t report anything out of the ordinary, but then Maplewish came to our camp to tell us that Stagfur had died about a quarter moon before. I was just wondering if he’d even been told.”

“Oh, he knew.”

Stormflight’s mouth fell open and he stopped scratching. “Oh—but he didn’t say…”

Whitestar stared at him for a long time. “That’s simple, of course—Jaysong didn’t tell you because I told him not to.”

He said it as casually as one says that they saw a heron on the lake. Stormflight’s eyes widened and his fur pricked uncomfortably. “What? Why?”

“What business is that of the BrackenClan messenger to deliver news about my Clanmates?” Whitestar countered, eyes narrowing. “That isn’t his information to share.”

“That’s—but that’s the messenger’s _duty_ ,” Stormflight enunciated. “To share news between the Clans and keep everyone up to date. That’s what was decided when the borders were dissolved!”

“You weren’t born then, so don’t you deign to tell me what was decided,” Whitestar snapped. He took a breath, seemed to collect himself, and continued: “You weren’t privy to the old code, Stormflight, so you wouldn’t understand. I cannot fault you for that.”

_Don’t patronize me!_ “I may not have been born, but I know that you were one of the leaders who opposed the borders dissolving in the first place. Whatever your stance on it, Whitestar, the decisions you make now don’t just affect your moor-born Clanmates—they affect us all.”

Whitestar bristled. “You are a medicine cat, and that is the only reason I have not kicked you out of this camp myself,” he warned. “Choose what you say to me _very_ carefully.”

Stormflight swallowed a growl. “Far be it from me to tell you how to run your Clan,” he meowed, very slowly, “but the death of a Clanmate, regardless of where he was kitted, affects _every cat_ around the lake. If you’ve kept something as serious as this a secret, what else have you hidden?”

He knew as soon as he said it that it was a mistake, and Whitestar bared his teeth.

“I’ve changed my mind—you’re not welcome here,” he snarled. “Get _out_ of my camp, and take that miserable kit with you.”

“Wildkit is innocent in this,” Stormflight told him firmly, amazed at how steady his meow was despite the mouse in his stomach threatening to reappear. “We’ll leave, but know this—you’ve lost my trust. I won’t tell Tuftystar, nor any other cat—not yet—but you no longer are a friend of mine.”

“I said to _leave!”_

Stormflight spun on his toe and stalked out of the den. In the sunlight of the camp, his paws finally started to shake. He refused to let himself give in until he reached the nursery.

“Wildkit,” he called in, a little sharper than he intended, “come. We’re leaving.”

When there wasn’t a response, he poked his head in. Starlingheart was still in her nest, speaking with Petalpaw, who was rolling old bedding under her paws. Wildkit and Pouncekit were wrestling on a bare patch on the ground, and four heads turned to him as he appeared.

“Wildkit,” he repeated, forcing his voice to be gentler. She looked up at him after a moment, pinning Pouncekit to the ground. “Come on, darling, let’s go.”

“You’re leaving now?” Petalpaw asked, hurrying to her brother’s side. “We didn’t get a chance to talk more.” She glanced at Wildkit. “I’d like to.”

“No, I have to go. I’ll talk to you at the Gathering, and you can always come visit us after you become a warrior.” He touched their cheeks. “I’ll explain later, I promise,” he whispered in her ear, and got a murmured agreement in return. He stepped back as Wildkit bounced to his side. “Tell Maplewish I’m sorry I missed her,” he meowed aloud, and dipped his head to Starlingheart. “Thank you for _everything_ , Starlingheart.”

“Take care, Wildkit,” she called lightly. “Be good, alright?”

The kit chirped and wound around Stormflight’s legs.

The two of them left the nursery to find the clearing thankfully empty. Stormflight had to move slower than he was used to, accounting for Wildkit’s little legs, and strode out of camp without looking at Whitestar’s den.

“Where go?” Wildkit inquired, bouncing ahead of Stormflight and tripping over her own huge paws. “Home?”

Stormflight looked out over the flat moor to the boreal forest beyond. “Home,” he echoed. “You’ll be happy there, Wildkit,” he promised. “There’s lots of trees, and more kits like Pouncekit to play with.”

Wildkit shook herself out and bounded forward a few steps. Her tiny tail had a little black spot at the tip, and Stormflight watched it flick as she jumped clumsily onto a rock and stared into the sky. She cast a long shadow over the flattened grasses.

_“You cannot see the shadows when you stare into the sun.”_

Stormflight nudged the kit. “Come down from there. We have a long way to go.”

_I wonder what he meant by that._

Stormflight was determined to take a nap before the half-moon meeting, but Wildkit was determined to kill either him or herself, and her resolve was much stronger than his, it appeared.

“Wildkit, don’t _eat that!”_ Stormflight lunged for her and scooped her backwards as she reached out her tongue to touch the catchweed he kept wrapped around a heavy stick. She growled and sank kitten-sharp teeth into his foreleg as he pushed the catchweed away.

“Wouldn’t you like to go be with Flywing?” he growled through gritted teeth. _Thank StarClan she agreed to nurse you. I don’t know what I would have done if I couldn’t find a place for you to fit in._

She shook her head. “Flight,” she stated, followed by another strange growled word.

Exhausted from telling the story over and over, Stormflight gave BrackenClan the quickest, shortest version he could come up with while Wildkit stood at his chest and growled at a pinecone nearby. Flywing hadn’t hesitated before agreeing to take Wildkit in, and he promised to bring her borage and extra prey every day to make up for it.

Despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to convince her that playing with the other kits was more fun than watching him take a nap, and he was now on kitten-sitting duty.

“Wildkit, come here,” he insisted, pushing her over to his nest and waiting until she sat down. “You can’t eat everything you see in here, little one. They’ll hurt you.”

She didn’t have time to reply before a summoning yowl echoed from the clearing, making Stormflight sigh and Wildkit snap her head around. She let out a mighty yowl that echoed it.

“Hush, hush,” Stormflight scolded. “Stay here.”

She took no notice, and sat down right between his front paws in the clearing.

Tuftystar stood atop the Tallspruce, drawn to his full height. He met Stormflight’s gaze and raised a brow when he noticed Wildkit. Stormflight rolled his eyes, and the leader’s tail twitched amusedly.

“The dusk patrol has returned and brings news,” Tuftystar spoke as noise began to die. “We’re not certain of what it means yet, but we’re letting every cat know so you can be on the lookout.”

“Yesterday, when we were on patrol,” Oakpelt called from his spot among the roots, “we encountered a strange smell that we couldn’t place, and tracked it out of the territory. Today, we found traces of blood at the border, and more of that smell.”

Unease spread through the camp. Stormflight shifted nervously. Wildkit looked up at him.

“What kind of blood?” Badgerheart called, fur on end.

“We believe it was just prey blood,” Sunfur put in. “There wasn’t much, and no signs of a fight. However, that means that there’s something else in our territory, hunting our prey. It’s possible—not necessarily likely, but possible—that it’s a rogue or a loner.”

“Traces of its scent were found as high as three tail-lengths up the spruces,” Twisttail added. “Which is awfully tall for a loner.”

“Could it have climbed?” Tipsky asked, tail twitching.

“I suppose it could have,” Oakpelt replied dryly, “if it wanted to do that on every tree between there and the border, and only a few tail-lengths up.”

“What about a fox or a badger?” Birdpaw suggested. The apprentices all sat in a tight huddle outside their den. Barkpaw had obviously been woken up—a wide yawn and his messy fur showed as much.

_It’s too big, and there’s no solid evidence of it being either of those._ Stormflight knew the answer before Twisttail said it aloud. Wildkit was unusually quiet, laying with her head on her paws.

“We don’t know what it is or if it’s even malicious,” Tuftystar meowed over the murmurs that broke out. “Every cat should keep their eyes open and ears pricked, and report to us immediately if you sense anything out of the ordinary. _Do not confront it_ if you happen to see it.”

The sun was setting as the meeting adjourned, and Stormflight heaved a heavy sigh as he finally accepted that he wasn’t going to get a nap. Wildkit rolled onto her back and batted up at him, growling playfully.

“You have to go with Flywing,” he told her firmly, making her wide paws stop. “I have to go on a trip.”

Something in what he said must have upset her, for her legs folded back to her body. “No,” she whimpered, blue eyes huge. “No trip, no leave. Smoke gone, Flight stay.”

“I’m only going to be gone for half the night,” he promised, nudging her to her feet. She pressed her head against his. “I’ll come see you as soon as I get back. Come on, let’s go see Flywing.”

He finally managed to push her off on the gray and white she-cat and snuck out as the kits tucked in for milk. He emerged into the clearing, hastily scarfed down a scrawny mouse, and trotted out of camp, headed for the Starpool.

_I feel like I could sleep for moons,_ he thought, tail flicking as he jumped over a tree branch. _Hopefully I’ll be able to get some rest tonight without Wildkit falling all over me._

He was the first at the medicine cats’ meeting place, and settled down on the felled tree with his paws under him. A long moment of staring out into the forest gave his eyes the signal they needed to close, and he allowed himself to relax. _Maybe just a few heartbeats…_

He was jerked awake by the sound of a snapping twig after what felt like barely a heartbeat. Echobreeze pushed her way through the bracken, nose in the air. Her delicate gray and black form was little more than a shadow, and she mewed a greeting as blind blue eyes turned on him.

“Just you, Stormflight?” she called out.

“So far,” he yawned, stretching the cold out of his limbs. “I left pretty early—Wildkit finally settled down and I had to seize my chance.”

She inclined her head. “Wildkit?”

He sighed. “Let’s wait until Fawnstep and Midnightpaw get here—I don’t want to explain it more times than I have to.”

“That implies Willowfur knows, then,” she mused, sitting down and washing her paws. “BreezeClan and BrackenClan always seem to have the most adventures without the rest of us.” Her tone was teasing as she purred, “We’re starting to feel left out.”

Stormflight reflected on his confrontation with Whitestar that morning. “Really, you shouldn’t.”

Fawnstep, Midnightpaw, and Willowfur all arrived at the same time, and Stormflight promised to explain if they started walking. He took the lead and talked over his shoulder as the path narrowed.

“That was so brave of you to chase the hawk down,” Midnightpaw gasped, her green eyes glowing in her wide black face. They were the only thing showing her position as her pelt became shadow.

“I’m glad Flywing agreed to nurse her,” Willowfur sighed. “I worried all day about that.”

“Wildkit is such a sweet name,” Fawnstep purred.

“It’s strange, her appearance,” Echobreeze murmured. “I wonder just how big she’s going to get.”

“Oh,” Stormflight recalled suddenly, glancing back at Willowfur, “Petalpaw said her ceremony was tonight. How’d that go?”

Willowfur cocked her head. “There wasn’t a ceremony tonight.”

Stormflight stopped and turned back to her. Echobreeze, Fawnstep, and Midnightpaw continued on ahead. “But she said she passed her assessment.”

Willowfur shrugged, blue eyes confused. “I don’t know. I heard the apprentices talking before I left, but they were all in their den. There was no naming ceremony, warrior or otherwise. Maybe Whitestar put it off since it’s the half-moon.”

Stormflight lashed his tail. “Why would he care about that?”

Willowfur shook her head and bounded past him. “I don’t know, Stormflight, but we’re going to miss moonhigh if we stand here pondering all night.”

Frustrated, he allowed himself to take up the rear position as they caught up with the cluster of she-cats at the top of the rise. Here, the foothills sloped into more gently rising and falling crests, and under a flat rock at the top of one said crest, beneath the roots of a massive oak, sat the Starpool.

_There’s no reason for a leader to put off a ceremony for a cat who’s passed their assessment,_ he thought bitterly. _If he seriously put it off because I called him out, and Petalpaw’s my sister, I’ll claw his ears myself._

The Starpool was shoulder-deep at best, but shallowed out at the edges. Around the back of the cavern, the pool disappeared into a carved-out shallow under the rock, where the medicine cats took their respective places.

“Any news to share?” Echobreeze asked as they all settled down. Stormflight stared at the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water, tail twitching irritably. _I can’t believe Whitestar, that he would do that._

_No,_ he amended to himself, _after he admitted to making Jaysong lie, I can absolutely believe he would do that._

“We managed to control the sniffles in our camp,” Fawnstep reported, “thanks in no small part to Midnightpaw.” She nodded proudly to her apprentice, who shifted self-consciously. “She was the one who figured out that it was easiest to treat the cough, and once the symptoms stopped, almost every cat got better.”

“Oftentimes, when symptoms are treated, warriors get better on their own. Well done,” Willowfur praised, echoed by Echobreeze and a distracted Stormflight. Stagfur’s starry figure was standing at the far end of the pool, staring intently at him. His tail twitched impatiently, but his form was so barely there it had taken him a few heartbeats to recognize the late messenger.

_What do you want?_ he thought. Stagfur padded to the pool, touched his nose to the surface of the water, and vanished.

“Yewkit was apprenticed today,” Echobreeze was saying as Stormflight turned hesitantly back to their group. Willowfur was looking at him curiously—he minutely shook his head. “Yewpaw has been given to Brackenfire.”

“Good for him!” Fawnstep exclaimed. “His siblings have already had apprentices and turned them into fine warriors. You’d think, brother to the deputy, he’d be first in line for an apprentice.”

“He probably would have gotten one earlier if he’d learned to keep his tongue in his cheek,” Willowfur snorted, earning a chorus of amused purrs.

“Moonhigh’s on its way out,” Stormflight warned, looking up at the sky. “We should get settled if we want to speak to StarClan.”

“Don’t pull out your feathers,” Echobreeze teased, stretching and settling down beside him. She bent and touched the water with her nose, then licked the drops off before resting her head on her paws. “We’re coming, you grouch.”

Stormflight copied her, although as soon as his chin touched his paws, he was standing in StarClan’s hunting grounds. The boreal forest here was as tall as the sky, and past the bushes in the immediate area, it was covered in a thick, misty haze.

“Stagfur!” he yowled. “I’m here! What did you want?”

“Ah,” another voice rumbled, “had I known you wanted Stagfur so badly, I would have told Hawkstar that I was busy tonight.”

“Pinefrost?” Stormflight spun around to see his late mentor pushing through the trees. The spots on his calico pelt shone with starlight. No amusement was present on his features, and though his words had likely been teasing, it hadn’t reached his eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asked nervously. “I keep seeing visions, and I don’t know what they _mean._ ”

“Neither do we, fully,” Pinefrost admitted. “The cats you are seeing in your visions are so old that they no longer exist in StarClan, if they ever did at all. We cannot find them to ask them.”

“What about the big cat?” Stormflight demanded.

“Cats, we believe,” his mentor corrected. He sat down with his tail around his paws. “I don’t think the cat you saw in our camp and the one you saw in BreezeClan are the same.”

“So you know what I’m seeing,” Stormflight mused, “but you don’t know who sent them?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Pinefrost sighed. “No cat who’s been asked has admitted to it or has any better idea of what it means. We’ve decided that the starry outlines are StarClan cats, and that the dark outlines are not StarClan. We don’t know what the distinction is, we don’t know why the other figures are so big, we don’t know _anything._ ”

“Then why did you call me here?” he demanded, fur standing on end. “If you’ve just brought me here to tell me you don’t know anything either—!”

“Have I been dead so long that you’ve forgotten to respect your elders?” Pinefrost cut him off. “I came here to talk to you, foolish kit, but if you don’t want to talk, then I’ll leave and let you sit here until moonhigh is gone.”

Angry but chastised, Stormflight slowly sat down. He didn’t dignify that with a response.

“You did the right thing with Wildkit,” he meowed suddenly. His green eyes sparked. “And with Whitestar.”

“Did he refuse to have Petalpaw’s ceremony because of me?” Stormflight asked slowly.

“Since the borders dissolved, we have not been in contact with Whitestar,” Pinefrost answered after a pregnant pause. “His predecessor Thornstar has tried, to no avail, though whether she cannot get through or he refuses to talk to her is uncertain.”

“But that’s been—seasons,” Stormflight stammered, appalled. “Does Willowfur know? Does _any_ cat know?”

“What matters to you,” Pinefrost continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “is figuring out these visions. The next time you have one, get as close as you can and see if you can pick apart any specific details from any cat you see. The arrival of these visions and the arrival of Wildkit at the same time cannot be coincidental. Perhaps if you visit the other Clans and stay in their camp, you might see more. The one you saw in our camp and in BreezeClan were different, correct?”

“Yeah, but I don’t see—”

“If these are truly visions of the past, then you must collect all the information you can,” Pinefrost insisted. His eyes started to glow like stars. “You cannot see the shadows when you stare into the sun.”

“What shadows?” Stormflight demanded, closing his eyes against the flash of light. “Is that about Wildkit? Pinefrost!”

Stormflight blinked awake a second before he pitched forward into the Starpool, greeted by Echobreeze grabbing his scruff in her teeth and dragging him backwards. He stumbled and rolled awkwardly to his feet, shaking her off. “I’m okay, I’m alright, Echobreeze, I’m alright.”

“You were thrashing so much I was afraid you were going to dive into the water headfirst,” she told him, refusing to look chagrined. “I didn’t want you to drown.”

“I appreciate that.” He sat down and watched as Midnightpaw started to rouse. “I’m so sick of StarClan never being straightforward.”

“Aren’t we all?” she sighed softly. “Aren’t we all?”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gathering's here!

“Stormflight!”

He bit down a sigh as heavy pawsteps stomped into his den. “Yes, Wildkit?”

“You said you would play moss-ball with us,” she insisted. She sat down with a thump in the entrance to his den and fixed him with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?”

“I’m a little busy right now, darling,” he meowed gently. In the half-moon since he had rescued her, she had become much more loquacious and surer of her pawsteps, and now stood slightly taller and just a little wider than her adopted littermates.

They didn’t seem to care—they all played like regular littermates, although it often took all three of the other kits to wrestle Wildkit to the ground. Her eyes had started to change from their kit-blue to a stunning gold, solidifying her age in Stormflight’s mind, as he watched the same shift in Goldenkit and Leafkit.

“I’ve got to clean out these nests and my stores before the Gathering tonight,” he continued, turning away to finish rolling the moss under his paws into a tight ball. “I know I said I’d play with you, but it might have to wait until tomorrow.”

“But you said—”

“I _know_ what I said, Wildkit,” he cut her off, tossing her a look. Her short tail was twitching absently on the ground, the black puff at the tip stirring up dust. She didn’t seem concerned by the change in his tone, although her ears flicked. “But I’m busy right now.”

“Alright,” she finally relented, heaving a sigh. “But Flywing and Skyleap won’t play with us, and the apprentices are too busy, too.”

“Leaf-bare is coming,” Stormflight told her for what felt like the thousandth time. “Everyone’s busy preparing. We’ve got to stock up on prey and moss before it snows.”

“I’m excited for it to snow,” she told him seriously, watching as he pushed the old moss to the side. “The elders have told us all about the snow, and how it makes the air and the ground cold.”

“It’s beautiful,” he agreed, unfurling the new bundles of moss that Birdpaw and Ivypaw had brought him earlier that morning. “It’ll snow before too long, don’t worry about that. You’ll be apprenticed right at the start of leaf-bare, so you’ll be able to go out and see the forest in it.”

Upon finishing his nest and the two he reserved for patients, he looked with some pride upon his work, after which he turned back to Wildkit.

“There must be more fun things to do than sit here and watch me clean out my den,” he posited.

“The warriors look at me funny,” she mewed, inclining her head. “I hear them talking about me sometimes. I don’t know most’a what they say—they stop talking when I walk up—but I know they’re talking about me. Sunfall says I look funny, and Sweetriver says I’m too big.” She stared at the ground. “I hear that part.”

Stormflight tried not to show the despair he felt in his chest. _I know_ , he wanted to say. _I know they do, I’ve heard them say it, because they don’t hold their tongues around me like they do around you. It isn’t your fault you’re bigger than the other kits. I don’t know why you are but it doesn’t matter._

“Wildkit, when I found you, I knew you weren’t like the other kits,” he told her. He’d tried to talk to her about where she’d come from, but the older she got, the less she seemed to remember about the hawk attack or her life before it. Even though it had only been a half-moon prior, she couldn’t recall concrete details about the hawk at all. She still called Flywing Mama, despite Stormflight never keeping it a secret that she wasn’t born of Flywing and Tuftystar.

“I knew that from the moment I saw you, and I brought you here anyway,” he continued, padding up and putting his nose to the top of her head. Her fur was already thick and coarse, and her kitten fluff was fading into a rich gold dotted with black. “Because these cats are my family, and they love every cat here, and they’ll love you. Warriors talk—they always have, and they always will—but you _cannot_ let them get to you.”

“That’s what Mama says,” she sighed, pawing at her nose. “Why am I different?”

He inhaled slowly. “That’s a…difficult question, Wildkit, hon.”

“I don’t look like Goldenkit or Leafkit or Flamekit,” she told him, looking up with big eyes. “I feel like a cat, and I sound like a cat, and I can run and jump and yowl like a cat, but I don’t _look_ like one.” Her claws dug into the dirt as she kneaded up pawfuls. “But I _know_ I’m a cat.”

“And you _are_ a cat. Appearances hardly matter,” Stormflight told her firmly. “You’re going to have to prove to them that you’re just as strong and capable and—just as much a Clan cat as anyone who was born here. I know it’s unfair, but it’s what you’ve got to do.” He lowered his head to look her in the eye. “And you’re strong enough to do it. Believe in yourself. Okay?”

She blinked, headbutting him gently. “Okay, Stormflight, I’ll try.”

“Go play,” he insisted, nudging her out of the den. “If I have time, I’ll toss the moss-ball for you all before I leave.”

She bounded across the clearing with only one glance back, and pounced on the moss-ball as Goldenkit kicked it in her direction. Leafkit and Flamekit charged at her, and they all collapsed in a wrestling, growling bundle.

He turned to look over the camp, where the sun was sinking towards the horizon. Most of the clearing was empty, with the warriors and apprentices going to the Gathering resting before sunset. Birdpaw and Ivypaw, the two apprentices not chosen, were sharing a squirrel against the outer wall of camp, perched in one of the last pools of sunlight.

Sweetriver was sharing tongues with Flywing near the nursery. While Stormflight itched to confront her, Wildkit was within earshot—hard-headed as she was, she wouldn’t forgive him for trying to fight her battles for her.

_I’ll remember to talk to her later,_ he told himself, and while watching the kits wrestle, was spooked by a meow right over his shoulder.

“She’s been wondering when you were going to play moss-ball with them.” Skyleap came up to his side and gently touched her son’s cheek with her nose. “Your fur is a mess, darling.”

“Wildkit has a penchant for headbutts, so I always forget to fix it.” He ducked his head to allow his mother to do it for him. Both he and Petalpaw were tall and wide like their father, Stormflight more so, and Skyleap had soon not been able to reach her kits’ ears without their assistance.

“Of both of my kits, who would have thought that it would be you who’d get me a grandkit first?” she teased, purring.

“A medicine cat, of all things,” he exhaled. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, my dear.” Her eyes shone with a love that made Stormflight’s heart swell.

“Well…” He dropped his mew. “Wildkit says that the warriors are talking about her.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard them too.”

“What do I do? Should I do anything? I know she’s not…” _Average. My kit. Their responsibility._ “…but, ah, I feel like they’re being mean-spirited for no reason.” He stared intently at his mother, hoping he could find an answer to his despair somewhere in her gold eyes. “What would you do?”

Skyleap looked back toward where Wildkit had Goldenkit pinned, growling playfully as he battered her belly with his back paws. She inhaled slowly and exhaled just as slowly.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, and his heart sank, because that was the answer he’d been dreading. “I would defend you and Petalpaw with my life against any adversity. I would fight any battle for you two. However, I also would never believe that those battles would come from within the Clan, within our friends and family, and I wouldn’t know what I would do unless I was faced with it myself.”

“If some other cat—one outside the Clan—was saying things about Petalpaw and I,” he pressed, “what would you do?”

“I would speak up,” Skyleap answered without hesitating. “Tell them that those are my kits, and they’re Clanmates as much as anyone else, and they should respect that.”

Stormflight nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay.” _I think I know what I’m gonna do now._

Skyleap watched him carefully. “Remember, Wildkit has a strong spirit. You might not do well to fight her battles for her.”

“I know.” He thought, once again, of Whitestar. “Why can’t every cat just get along?”

“Things would most certainly be easier,” she agreed through a yawn. “I’m going to go rest before the Gathering—you should do the same, darling.”

“I’ll get something to eat and I will,” he promised, watching her walk off. He picked through the leftovers of the fresh-kill pile, took a fuzzy squirrel, and headed back for his den. He found a patch of sunlight pooling just outside the mouth of his den and settled down to eat.

_“I would fight any battle for you two. …Tell them that those are my kits, and they’re Clanmates as much as anyone else. They should respect that._ ”

_They listen to me on everything else,_ Stormflight thought as he finished his squirrel and laid his head on his paws. _They should listen to me about this, too._

Flywing called out from in the nursery, and the kits bundled back toward the den for dinner. Wildkit stretched first, flexing wide paws and yawning hugely. She blinked happily at Stormflight, flicked her ears, and trotted back into the nursery. Her expressionless tail remained flat against her haunches.

_I shouldn’t have to tell grown cats how to behave,_ he continued crossly to himself, feeling his tail start to lash. He rustled a dry bush to his side. _It’s so much harder to be mean than it is to be nice. She’s a kit, for StarClan’s sake. She’s done nothing wrong._

_Grown cats should act like grown cats._

Whitestar’s snarl flashed into his mind. _I said to leave!_

Stormflight closed his eyes. _I’m so tired._

Stormflight kept pace easily with Applebranch as they trailed behind Tuftystar, the rest of the patrol bounding through the bracken behind them. Wildkit had seemed nervous when they’d left, although she couldn’t (or wouldn’t, although Stormflight suspected the former) verbalize why. She’d only been calmed when Stormflight had promised to see her when he got back if she was awake, but not to bother Flywing by staying up late.

“Your kit seems to have taken to Clan life like a duck to water,” Applebranch commented, pulling him out of his thoughts. Stormflight tensed.

“Well, I’m sure it’s exciting to have a big family,” he meowed cautiously.

The orange deputy flicked his ears and cast green eyes at him. “You don’t have to be so cagey, Stormflight—I see nothing wrong with having a new kit in the camp.”

He relaxed a little. _Thank StarClan._ “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Applebranch jumped a fallen tree branch and called a warning over his shoulder. “The old code specified that kits were always to be helped, regardless of what Clan they came from.”

“Wildkit’s not a Clan kit,” Stormflight began.

“I’m sure StarClan wouldn’t want us to reject a kit for _any_ reason,” he amended quickly. “Have you wondered where she came from, though? She’s definitely…different.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Oakpelt snorted from behind Stormflight, but Applebranch shot him a look before the medicine cat could do it himself.

“Have some respect,” he snapped. Oakpelt looked away, dropping back to match pace with Firefall.

“She’s a cat, just like anyone else,” Stormflight argued, frustrated. _Why am I the only cat who’s able to see that?_ “And clearly alone, or her mother would have come looking for her by now.”

Applebranch nodded respectfully, and when Stormflight stonily made no more attempt at conversation, he pulled ahead to trot alongside Tuftystar. No other cat tried to join him.

_That’s fine,_ he grumbled to himself. _I’m tired of defending myself to every cat._

The BrackenClan patrol slowed as they approached the Twoleg bridge crossing the lake to the island. It had once connected to the abandoned Twolegplace, but the longer it sat empty, the more confident the cats were that there was little chance of any Twolegs returning.

He cleared the two shorter flat wooden ledges that made the transition from dirt to wood easier with a jump powered by frustration, and instinctively opened his mouth to taste the air as he tailed his leader and deputy. The wind off the water brought the scent of cold mountain air—BreezeClan was clearly the first to arrive.

Commotion behind him made his head turn, and he found the back half of their patrol mingling with the newly arrived ShoreClan patrol, headed by Riverstar. The sleek gray she-cat nodded politely to Duststripe and Foxtail, stopping her patrol with her tail to allow BrackenClan to advance.

Fawnstep caught his eye and waved her tail, mimicked by Midnightpaw, who also gave a bounce. Stormflight flicked his ears in response before turning to follow his patrol onto the island.

Unkempt, disused, and wild, the island was thick with foliage except through carefully crafted pathways that wove around the brambles and wiry bushes. It was only wide enough for each cat to travel nose-to-tail, although it soon opened up into a wide clearing.

The clearing had the tell-tale signs of past Twoleg use—flat rocks and felled logs were arranged in a pattern around a central point for whatever purpose. At the edges of the clearing were several thick, massive trees with scars dug into them, created by Twoleg paws (likely with some form of fake claw—Stormflight had seen them use what DuskClan called ‘tools’ when the occasional one wandered through the boreal forest).

One massive spruce tree had had many of its clearing-facing branches carved away, and although some had tried to grow back, they were more fuzz than branch. The remaining stumps of thick branches served as easy jumping points for the leaders to reach branches that had been stripped bare and scored with claw marks, high over the heads of Clanmates sitting on even the tallest felled-tree in the clearing.

“I don’t see Petalpaw, do you?” Skyleap asked in his ear, scanning the assembled BreezeClan cats, who had seemingly crammed themselves all on one flat rock. Stormflight looked them over, and it was only on his third sweep that he realized that many were staring at their patrol.

_No,_ he thought suddenly, _they’re staring at me._

_They’re_ glaring _at me._

“I don’t see any cat who’s not moor-born,” she continued slowly. “Featherpaw isn’t there either, or Whiskerfur.”

“Beeflight, Rushsplash, Addersnap—none of them are here,” Stormflight muttered to himself. _What’s Whitestar playing at?_

As he moved away, his suspicions were confirmed as several BreezeClan heads followed his movement. He passed the rock to head for his spot at the base of the Great Spruce and heard a hiss from behind him.

“Who do _you_ think you are?” some cat growled, earning a snicker from a companion. Anger rose, hot and fast in Stormflight’s chest, but he struggled to not even let his ears twitch toward them. _Whitestar’s definitely been talking to his senior warriors. I guess I should have expected as much—I don’t know why I thought that our little tiff would be kept a secret._

He sat down next to Willowfur with a mew of greeting. She leaned in immediately, eyes sharp with irritation.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Whitestar fought?” she demanded through clenched teeth. “That’s why you asked about Petalpaw’s ceremony, isn’t it?”

He stared at her. “What?”

“You knew you ticked off Whitestar,” she continued in a hiss, her claws sunk into the needled floor, “and you told _no cat_ , not even _me_ , when we met up at the half moon!”

Stormflight blinked. “I don’t—I mean, we _bickered_ , yeah—”

“Seems like more than a _bicker_ if it compelled him to put Petalpaw’s warriorship off,” she interrupted. “She’s been moping around camp like a sick mouse for half a moon _._ ”

Stormflight’s earlier frustration swelled into a blinding fury, bringing sickening guilt with it. “He _put off her warriorship because of me?_ ” he snarled, unable to keep his lip from curling. “You’ve _got_ to be joking.”

“He’s been a nightmare to all of the out-of-Clan cats,” Willowfur snapped, although the emotion in her eyes was softening from anger to nervousness. Her mew dropped further and she glanced at the BreezeClan cats, who were staring them down. “Look, we can talk later, not here—but look at our party.”

“How it’s all moor-born cats? I realized,” he growled back. “Give me one good reason not to claw his ears.”

“He could crush you, and he’s got nine lives,” Willowfur chided dryly. She fell silent and pulled away as Fawnstep and Midnightpaw joined them and the she-cats began chatting. Stormflight met many of the warriors’ gazes coolly, and managed to pick out Maplewish behind a large black tom.

He arched his head, trying to catch her eye, but if she saw him, she didn’t show it—her head stayed ducked and her gaze was carefully averted. That hurt Stormflight more than anything, and his anger fizzled into pain and a sudden loneliness.

_We’re friends,_ he despaired. _What has Whitestar been saying to turn you against me, too?_

Suddenly heartbroken and miserably guilty, Stormflight tucked his tail around his paws and stared absently across the clearing until a yowl from overhead brought silence. It seemed tenser than usual—most cats had undoubtedly noticed the absence of their non-moor-born Clanmates.

“Your party seems awfully small, Whitestar,” Furzestar of DuskClan commented loudly above them. A ripple spread through the clearing. “In fact, I don’t think I see any cats who aren’t born of your Clan there.”

“It just happened to work out that way,” the white leader commented easily. “Shall we get on with it?”

“I suppose we shall. I’ll go first,” Riverstar put in. “We have little to report—we had a minor illness through camp this moon, but Midnightpaw went above and beyond and was able to find both the source and the cure on her own. We recovered easily and are thriving thanks to her.”

Cheers of Midnightpaw’s name rose around the clearing, and she ducked her head in embarrassment. Stormflight forced himself to cheer along. _I feel like I’m going to be sick._

“Prey is running well, and we’ve likely seen the last of the greenleaf Twolegs for this season,” she finished, and sat down. Tuftystar stood up next after sharing a glance with Furzestar.

“No new apprentices or warriors to report, although I’m confident that will change by the next moon—all of the apprentices are making great leaps in their training,” Tuftystar praised. “I’d also like to advise everyone to keep an eye out, especially DuskClan—there have been a series of strange scents and tracks seen at the edge of our border close to your territory. We’ve tracked it fairly deep into the forest, and found traces of prey blood where it’s been hunting.”

“What is ‘it’?” Furzestar asked, ears pricked curiously.

“We’re not sure,” Tuftystar admitted, sending a ripple of unease through the crowd as cats began to whisper. “We’ve not seen it, and it’s not seen us, as far as we know—it doesn’t seem to be too concerned about cats, since its scent has been found laid over fresh border marks. We’ll keep track, and if we find out more, our messenger will make sure to let you all know.

“I’d also like to share the news of a new kit in the camp—Stormflight and Maplewish, about a half moon ago, spotted a hawk carrying a kit over the moor. They chased it down with the help of a BreezeClan patrol and saved the kit, who’s been christened Wildkit. She is currently nursing with Flywing and her litter.”

“What Clan does she belong to?” some cat yowled, and a pang of fear plunged into Stormflight’s heart. _She doesn’t_ belong _to any Clan—none of us do anymore—_

“When she gets old enough to choose, she will be allowed to choose, like any other kit,” Tuftystar stated firmly. Stormflight wilted in relief.

“But if she was found on BreezeClan land—” some other cat called.

“ _You_ want to tell Starlingheart that she’s got to nurse five kits?” Redpelt, a ginger tom, snapped from BreezeClan’s rock. The accused gave a faint hiss. “BreezeClan doesn’t need another useless mouth to feed.”

Cries of outrage at his words rose from around the camp, and Chestnutfur gave him a swift cuff over the ears. He ducked his head behind his Clanmates.

“Good,” Echobreeze muttered into Stormflight’s ear. “Glad some cat smacked him.”

“Kits are _not useless,_ ” Lynxtail scolded him. “However, the sentiment is the same—Starlingheart is barely able to support her four kits, and they’re already eating prey too. With leaf-bare looming and the caribou moving down into the plains, scaring the moor prey, we cannot support extra cats, especially not since Daisyfern is already expecting soon.”

“Which brings me to my news.” Whitestar rose and Stormflight refused to look up at him. “As it stands, BreezeClan will not be accepting any more outside apprentices until after leaf-bare.”

There was a confused murmur in the heartbeat of silence that followed his announcement.

“Can he do that?” Midnightpaw whispered.

“I guess so,” Echobreeze breathed back. “Clan leaders are still the final authority.”

“What about the apprentices you’ve got?” Talonslash demanded, amber eyes burning.

“They’ll finish their training, as agreed,” Whitestar pacified him, nodding. “Petalpaw and Featherpaw will be having their assessments soon.”

“I thought they already had their assessments—that’s what Bluetail said earlier this moon,” a cat from DuskClan called.

“They had to be pushed back—we unfortunately lost Stagfur earlier this moon due to the caribou,” he shared, earning mews of sympathy. “Our Clan was so shaken that it fell by the wayside.”

“Raccoon droppings,” Stormflight muttered to himself, receiving a glare from Willowfur in turn.

“That’s a shame to hear about Stagfur,” Riverstar lamented, sounding genuine. “Our deepest sympathies with his family and Clanmates.”

Whitestar dipped his head. “Thank you very much for that. It’s been hard, but we’ve slowly returned to normalcy. His position as messenger was taken over by Maplewish.”

Stormflight didn’t have to force a cheer this time as the red and white she-cat stood to be recognized. This time she did meet his glance fleetingly, and he saw her ears flick toward him. The tiny gesture was enough to soothe some of his worry— _she isn’t too upset, then. I don’t know what Whitestar’s done that’s got Willowfur and Maplewish so on edge, but I’m already tired of it._

“Nothing too exciting on our end,” Furzestar grunted as Whitestar receded. “Yewpaw was apprenticed and given to Brackenfire, emptying our nursery for the first time in a long time. Seems like it’ll stay empty for a while—we don’t have any expecting queens—not too bad going into leaf-bare. Sparrowpaw and Thistlepaw will be assessed soon, so hopefully we’ll have more news next moon.”

“If no cat has anything else,” Tuftystar called, “then this Gathering is at an end. Stay warm, stay safe, and see you all next moon!”


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whitestar's border keeps getting tighter and tighter, and now it's starting to affect other cats too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a whole lot longer than the others, since it'll probably be a little bit before the next update, and there wasn't a good place to break things up in here. Thanks for being patient!

“I can’t _believe them!_ ”

Stormflight glanced up at the frustrated snarl from the bramble entrance of the camp, earning a moss-ball flung directly into his snout as Wildkit’s powerful hind legs launched it at him.

“Believe who?” Firefall asked a bristling Talonslash as Stormflight wrestled Wildkit to the ground, growling playfully as she snapped her teeth at his paws. A strong kick from her back legs drove the air out of his lungs, but he managed to flop down and squash her flat.

“They turned us away!” Oakpelt snapped, earning the attention of multiple cats. Stormflight sat up, shooting Wildkit a ‘be quiet’ look as she growled again.

“Who turned you away?” Applebranch asked, sitting up from where he was sunning himself. Skyleap padded forward to touch her nose to her mate’s shoulder, who barely seemed to recognize that she was there.

“ _A border patrol_ ,” Oakpelt mocked. Talonslash’s teeth were bared in a residual snarl—Stormflight thanked StarClan once again that he hadn’t gotten his father’s hot temper. “We haven’t had border patrols in _seasons!_ ”

“At least, not ones between Clan borders,” Talonslash finally growled, “whose job is to turn away cats from other Clans.”

Unease spread through the camp. Stormflight tipped his head. _That is strange. At the Gathering, Whitestar only said that they wouldn’t be accepting new apprentices. They’ve never prevented cats from crossing the border._

It was three days since the Gathering, and they had seen neither whisker nor tail of anyone from BreezeClan. Stormflight had gone for a walk the day prior and seen a familiar red and white she-cat trotting along the lakeside, although she’d beelined for DuskClan without pause. Stormflight had nearly called out to her, but had swallowed it at the last minute.

_If she wanted to talk, she’d have stopped by._

“Did they give you a reason?” Sweetriver asked, sharing a startled look with Flywing. Tuftystar emerged from his den and sat in the mouth of it, watching curiously.

“’Why do you want to come onto the moor?’” Oakpelt mocked as Talonslash touched his nose to Skyleap’s. She stared at him with concern in her big eyes. “’You can’t hunt here. You don’t know _how_.’”

“Did you tell them you were just going to check on Petalpaw?” Stormflight asked, standing up and heading for his father. Wildkit sat obediently where he left her, watching the scene play out with big eyes and angled ears.

“’If something happens, we’ll let you know.’ What kind of mouse-dung is that?” Talonslash demanded, glaring in the general direction of his son. “I want to see my _kit_ , for StarClan’s sake.”

“If something was badly wrong, Petalpaw would come home,” Skyleap insisted. “She’s always known that she’s able to come home and continue her training here.”

“This close to her assessment, she won’t want to,” Duststripe argued, frowning. “Changing mentors would set her warriorship back at least a moon.”

“I just want to know why BreezeClan turned you away,” Flywing meowed, working her paws nervously in the dirt. “Whitestar closing the Clan to apprentices is bad enough.”

“It is concerning,” Tuftystar finally spoke up. “I’m assuming that no amount of insistence changed the patrol’s mind?”

“No,” Oakpelt replied, shaking his head. “They said that they were under strict orders from Whitestar—no one else was to enter BreezeClan territory. Gave us some nonsense about a prey shortage.” He snorted. “Judging by how thick they were at the Gathering, that’s dirt.”

“What reason would Whitestar have to just close the borders?” Mudpaw wondered aloud, glancing at his denmate Barkpaw, who was staring at his paws in confusion. “Even to warriors?”

“I suppose this means none of us will be going home any time soon,” Junipertail muttered, rolling her eyes. “Whitestar’s always been flighty as an injured fox.”

“Do you think he’ll let Whiskerfur leave?” Foxtail whispered to Badgerheart, who touched the younger warrior’s side with his tail. Stormflight’s heart twisted for the lone littermate, who now seemed concerned that he might not be able to see his brother in the foreseeable moons.

“Whitestar closed the borders to incoming cats, not necessarily to outgoing,” Stormflight reminded them. “If prey shortage is their worry, I’d think they’d be glad to see cats leave.”

“I hope so,” he sighed. “Not that he’d come home anyway—I’m worried for his kits, and I’m sure he is too. Daisyfern and his family mean the world to him—he won’t want to leave them once his kits are born. Especially if they’re hurting for prey.”

Badgerheart pressed reassuringly against his side. He looked over the smaller ginger tom’s head at his sister Aspenbloom, and Stormflight was hit with a pang of loneliness as he watched the look they shared.

_At least they’re together._

“If we hear nothing else from BreezeClan within the next half moon, I’ll go check things out myself,” Tuftystar promised, rising to all fours. The chattering in the clearing quieted down, although he had not called for a formal meeting. “If one Clan isolates, it affects all of us. We’re all Clanmates together now, regardless of how individuals feel.”

His plan made sense to Stormflight—and it gave him time to meet with the other medicine cats at the half moon, to see if he could get anything from Willowfur in the meantime.

_Maybe that wasn’t your plan,_ Stormflight thought, turning away as warriors dispersed, _but it’s what I’m going to do anyway._

The half-moon came and went, and BreezeClan was as chilly as ever, with Willowfur able to provide no answers. The day after the medicine cats’ meeting at the Starpool, Stormflight sunned himself on a rock— _who knows how much longer we’ll be able to do this this season?—_ and listened tiredly as Jaysong was argued over.

“There’s no point in him going back,” Aspenbloom insisted, “just to get turned away again.”

“Then _you_ go,” Duststripe demanded of her, tail lashing. “You’re the mediator—go do your job!”

“There’s nothing to mediate if no one’s arguing,” Aspenbloom replied, shaking her head. “BreezeClan sticking their noses in the air doesn’t constitute a fight, and there’s nothing for me to resolve!”

“Their borders are all but closed,” Firefall reminded her, fur puffed. “How does that not constitute as ‘something to resolve’?”

“They’ve never turned a messenger away before,” Talonslash agreed, with the scowl that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on his face ever prevalent.

“So you want to send in Aspenbloom and possibly make them angrier?” Foxtail countered. His green eyes were wide with outrage, red ears flattened. “Yeah, _that’ll_ solve a lot.”

“We don’t even know if they’re angry,” Sweetriver meowed.

Stormflight opened his eyes into slits. The camp was divided into two literal halves, with Jaysong seated obediently in the middle. One ear was angled toward each side of the bickering cats, and his tail was swishing so fervently through the ground he was stirring up a small dust cloud.

On one side of him stood Talonslash, Duststripe, Firefall, Skyleap, Sunfur, and Oakpelt. On the other stood Aspenbloom, Foxtail, Tipsky, and Twisttail. Aspenbloom stood just forward of her group, drawn up to her full height with her chin raised. Her pelt was smooth and her ears were up—her infinite cool temper had made her a shoo-in for mediator. Opposite her was a furious Talonslash, his teeth bared and his back twitching as he struggled to keep his fur flat.

The cats who refused to take sides were sitting in loose clumps around the clearing, and Stormflight had not missed that any cat not born in the boreal woods had stayed firmly quiet. Junipertail and Flowerwish sat close, with Mudpaw next to the former and Barkpaw by the latter. Ivypaw and Birdpaw, the only cats born in DuskClan, were perched on a sturdy branch in the oak just over the other’s heads, pressed together.

_This has already split us up,_ Stormflight thought with a feeling of dread that was getting harder to ignore. _Birth Clan should not be what divides us._

Tuftystar stood at the mouth of his den, staring intently at the quarrel. His eyes bounced from each side to the other, although he had not said a word and his expression was unreadable. Flywing stood at his side, occasionally whispering something to him, none of which he responded to or acknowledged.

_Should I butt in?_

“Clearly they are, or they’d be letting us in,” Talonslash spat.

“Have you considered that a prey shortage is just that?” Aspenbloom asked, refusing to look rattled as the senior warrior choked on a growl. “I refuse to bicker with Kestrelclaw over nothing.”

“This isn’t nothing!” Duststripe yowled, startlingly the first to completely lose her temper. Stormflight sat up. “My kit is in that Clan, too, with my grandkits, and I’m not able to see _either of them!_ ”

“Our kit is there too,” Skyleap reassured Duststripe, touching the tip of her tail to the dark queen’s shoulder. “You aren’t the only cat whose family has been split up.”

“Then we shouldn’t tread on their tails,” Foxtail affirmed, shaking his head. “If we let Whitestar do what he wants, then he’ll be more likely to lighten up sooner.”

“Your brother is over there!” Duststripe snarled at him. “I can’t believe you’re taking their side over your _family!_ ”

“There aren’t sides,” Applebranch finally spoke from his spot by the warrior’s den, although he did not draw Duststripe’s attention. “Which is why I think this whole argument is pointless.”

Tuftystar gave him a warning stare. The deputy glanced away.

“You’re being ridiculous, Duststripe,” Twisttail stated, which was, evidently, the final straw. With a furious snarl, Duststripe launched herself at the bigger she-cat, paws outstretched. Startled screeches burst from Foxtail and Jaysong, who both dove out of the way, and Twisttail reared up on her hind legs to meet Duststripe halfway. Stormflight’s paws turned very cold, and he leapt off the rock.

Before they could meet, Aspenbloom launched herself into the air, collided with Duststripe, and the two she-cats collapsed on the leaf litter.

“Stop!” Tuftystar shouted, echoed by a yowl from Skyleap, but there was hardly a fight—Aspenbloom’s wider build and younger strength had easily overpowered the aging Duststripe, who was pinned under sheathed paws almost instantly.

“You’re a sorry excuse for a mediator!” Duststripe screeched up at Aspenbloom, whose tail lashed but she said nothing.

“Duststripe!” In a few strong bounds, Tuftystar reached the she-cats, and Aspenbloom stepped off to let the dark she-cat up. “You will _not_ attack your Clanmates! If you cannot control your temper, go to your nest and _stay there._ ”

Without a word, she turned and stormed into the warriors’ den, shouldering Applebranch aside as she did so. Foxtail took a hesitant step, glanced at his compatriots, and then bounded after his mother.

Stormflight let out a breath he hadn’t realize he’d taken and felt his heart thundering through his ears. _This is crazy. We’re falling apart._

Talonslash seemed to remember himself and took an embarrassed step backwards, licking his chest fur. Skyleap stepped up to his side, followed by Firefall. Ivypaw glanced down.

Tuftystar swarmed up the Tallspruce, standing on the lowest branch. “I will hold firm to my promise,” he stated, “and go to BreezeClan myself. Tomorrow, I will go with my deputy and medicine cat, and we’ll pay Whitestar a visit.”

Stormflight’s stomach dropped to his toes. _Oh, StarClan, no thank you._

“All due respect,” he found himself saying as he paced forward, “wouldn’t it be better for you to take Aspenbloom than me? I mean—her job is to be impartial. I’m a medicine cat, sure, but I’ve also got a duty to my Clanmates.”

“We’re all Clanmates now,” Tuftystar dismissed, making him frown. “That was decided when the borders were dissolved.

“I can’t tell anyone to come home,” he continued as if that solved the matter. _It doesn’t,_ Stormflight thought, annoyed. “That would be too much to ask of them. All I can do is make sure that they are safe and happy, and remind them that our Clan is always open to them, and to any cat who wishes to join us. Clearly, Whitestar is not willing to trust our messengers or mediators with information, but he might listen to another leader.”

That seemed to sate most cats, but Stormflight remained where he was even when the meeting adjourned, staring absently across the clearing, thinking hard.

_This has gone way beyond the aftermath of our bickering,_ he mused. _Maybe he was already feeling this way, and I just was the catalyst to send this rockslide rolling._

_Even so, why does he feel this way? What could possibly have caused him to feel so strongly about open borders that he’s decided now to close them?_

Lost in thought, Stormflight hardly noticed a cat entering the camp until the newcomer paused at the entrance and gave a meaningful meow when no cat noticed him.

“If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” Frogleap suggested, glancing at the tight clusters of warriors around the camp. Heads jerked up to look at the ShoreClan messenger, who was immediately joined by Jaysong.

“Good to see you,” the other messenger greeted, touching noses to the brown and white tom. Frogleap purred his agreement. He nodded respectfully to Tuftystar as the leader approached slowly, as if he was exhausted.

“Well met, Frogleap—hope you had safe travels,” he greeted. “Excuse us for our less than warm welcome.”

Frogleap’s arrival seemed to be a welcome distraction, as the camp started to buzz again, more like usual. Applebranch went around to each group of warriors, dividing them up into patrols. The apprentices stayed in the tree until Applebranch called them down and assigned them to camp duties while their mentors sulked.

Stormflight padded up to the messenger, greeting him with a polite nod. “Hi, Frogleap. Have you been to BreezeClan lately?”

The tom blinked in surprise. “Have I—? Well, yes, I was just there three or four sunrises ago.”

Ears perked up from around the camp.

“How’re things?” he asked, tipping his head. “Has Daisyfern kitted?”

“Uh—I—yes, she has. She had two toms, they’re named Rabbitkit and Rainkit.” He looked around at the sudden interest. “Maplewish came by our camp yesterday—you should have heard about this by now.”

“How about the apprentices?” Oakpelt inquired, pausing with one paw raised. “Featherpaw and Petalpaw?”

“Maplewish says they’ve already been warriored—what’s going _on?_ ” Frogleap demanded, blue eyes sparking with irritation and confusion. He stamped one paw into the dirt. “Maplewish is more than capable of sharing her Clan’s news—I came to share ours!”

Ears flicked away.

“We’re sorry, Frogleap,” Applebranch meowed with a hefty sigh. “BreezeClan has been…cool, to put it mildly.”

Jaysong silently rolled his eyes. Frogleap stared at him for a long moment, then dipped his head to the deputy. “Not my business, I suppose. Are you going somewhere else today, Jaysong?”

“Likely not,” he mewed, glancing up at the sky. “It’s already past sunhigh—I’d barely have time to say hello and I’d have to leave.”

“Would you want to take a walk after we share tongues?” he offered. “Catch up?”

Jaysong purred. “Sure!”

Tuftystar turned away, beckoning to Applebranch and Stormflight with a jerk of his head. Stormflight shared an exasperated look with the deputy— _Can a cat not catch a break? I have leaves to sort—_ and reluctantly plodded after Tuftystar.

The interior of his den, on the hollow side of the Tallspruce and sheltered by a bramble bush, was dark and cool. A small pile of bones sat at the entrance, with dirt scuffed half-heartedly over it. Stormflight sat down, wrapping his tail about his feet as Tuftystar paced. No cat said anything. A bird sang outside. Stormflight heard an emboldened Wildkit introducing herself loudly to Frogleap.

_It’s hard to see the shadows when you stare into the sun._

As if Wildkit’s voice was a summons, he heard Pinefrost’s voice in his ear, startling him so badly that he almost yelped out loud. He turned quickly to see if either of his compatriots had noticed, but Applebranch was watching the pacing Tuftystar intently.

_I haven’t been to the other Clans,_ he realized absently, holding his breath to slow his racing heart. _It’s been a moon since Pinefrost told me to do so and it’s completely slipped my mind._

“Feel free to include us at any time,” Applebranch meowed as the silence dragged out. Stormflight, with some effort, pulled himself back to the present. The leader stopped, staring at his feet.

“Two of my senior warriors can’t even keep their tempers in check,” Tuftystar finally stated. “Plus Splashheart had to retire. That leaves me with two—less than half of the cats who I’m supposed to be able to fall back on.”

“Tensions are high,” Stormflight offered. “It’s not their fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Tuftystar demanded, swinging on him. His amber eyes were alight with a fervor that was rare in him. “I can’t blame Whitestar for everything.”

_You could try,_ Stormflight thought, twitching his tail-tip.

“You remember what life was like before the borders were done away with,” Applebranch supplied. “Most of the cats around the lake still do. It’s been a big change from when we were apprentices, what we grew up with, when we had to memorize the old code. For StarClan’s sake, Tuftystar, Flowerear and the elders from _every_ Clan still refuse to acknowledge it.”

“Sorry that I don’t have that luxury,” he snapped, bristling.

“Chill out,” Stormflight warned without thinking. “You can’t condemn Talonslash and Duststripe for not keeping their tempers in check and then lose your own.”

Tuftystar stared at him, then took a deep breath. His fur relaxed and he shook himself out. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Applebranch.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“I can’t blame Whitestar, I can’t blame my warriors—” Tuftystar sat down, suddenly defeated. “Is it my fault? Have I failed somewhere?”

“ _No_ ,” Stormflight and Applebranch insisted in unison. A chill gripped his ribs. _You’ve done everything right. Don’t sell yourself short._

“You can’t control the things Whitestar does,” Applebranch continued. “All you can do is what’s best for your Clanmates and try to make him see sense. If that doesn’t work, you can’t do anything else. He’s not your responsibility.”

“And we’re going to do that,” Stormflight added, hating the words as he said them. “We’ll go talk to him tomorrow and see what’s made dirt in his fresh-kill.”

Tuftystar didn’t seem too sated, but nodded regardless. “Thank you, you two. I’ll be fine. Go see your Clanmates—I won’t keep you any longer with my own frets. Applebranch, will you send Talonslash and Duststripe to see me when they calm down? Separately, please.”

Applebranch nodded and left, but Stormflight hung back, thinking quickly.

“Tuftystar, I need to go to ShoreClan,” he meowed. “I’ll come back in the morning before we go to BreezeClan, but since Frogleap is here now, I can go with him tonight.”

Tuftystar’s ears twitched in surprise. “Is something the matter?”

Stormflight shook his head, then hesitated. _He’s got a connection to StarClan too, but I don’t want to cast doubt on Wildkit if I can avoid it._ He finally settled for, “I don’t think so, but hopefully tonight StarClan actually gives me an answer.” The meow was just pointed enough that if Pinefrost was listening, he wouldn’t have missed it.

Realization dawned on Tuftystar’s face and he nodded. “Medicine cat business, of course,” he acknowledged. “Safe travels, then, and be back before sunhigh so we can go to BreezeClan. I’m afraid if we push it off, some cats are going to take it into their own paws.”

_And that would make an even bigger mess than we’ve already got._

With a nod, Stormflight padded back out into the afternoon sunshine to catch Twisttail ducking out of the camp after what he assumed was the rest of a patrol. Ivypaw and Birdpaw were rolling moss under their pads, bundling them up to carry out of camp.

_I’ll ask them to get me some moss too_. Stormflight trotted toward them, but was jolted into the air by a loud shriek. Heads spun toward the nursery and Ivypaw accidentally crushed her smooth roll of moss.

Wildkit stood over Leafkit flat in the dirt, her pelt spiked and gold eyes wide. Goldenkit and Flamekit broke apart in their wrestling and bolted toward their sister.

“Leafkit!” Flywing cried, darting across camp. Wildkit flattened her ears and backed away, pressing her belly to the ground.

“We were just playing!” she insisted. Leafkit rolled to her belly and rubbed a paw over her ears. Stormflight bounded over, heart in his throat. _Injured kits is the last thing we need_.

“What did you do?” Goldenkit shrieked at Wildkit, who was trembling like a leaf.

“I didn’t do anything!” she cried back. “We were just playing!”

Flywing dropped next to Leafkit and gave her a few brusque licks, almost pushing her over. “Are you hurt?” she fretted.

Leafkit shook her head, scattering dust from her fur. “No, I’m not.”

Stormflight sniffed her fur all over, a thrill of relief pulsing through him as he didn’t find any broken skin. “What happened?” he asked, looking at Wildkit, who was creeping ever backwards, now half-under a dry bush.

“She attacked Leafkit!” Firefall yowled, orange fur on end as he stormed toward them. “If she wasn’t such a big, clumsy _oaf,_ this wouldn’t have happened!”

“She’s too big to be playing with the other kits!” Sweetriver put in.

“She hurt Leafkit!” Oakpelt growled.

“She’s too big! She’s as big as the apprentices! She shouldn’t be allowed to play with them,” Firefall added, ears flattening.

Wildkit whimpered in fear. The sound swelled a wild fury in Stormflight that he wasn’t aware he possessed. _I shouldn’t have to tell grown cats how to act!_

He bared his teeth at the orange warrior. “Shut up!” he snarled, drawing them all to a halt. “You have _no idea_ what happened, so don’t stick your tail in your mouth! When I want your opinion, I’ll let you know, but I didn’t _ask you!_ ”

Other cats who had been approaching stopped at Stormflight’s furious outburst, and now hesitated several fox-lengths away. Skyleap met his gaze evenly. She didn’t seem upset, but Stormflight couldn’t pinpoint what emotion her gaze bore.

_I would speak up._

_No one speaks about my family that way._

Wildkit was now fully under the bush, her big gold eyes the only thing visible as her mottled pelt blended into the shadow. “I didn’t mean to,” she whimpered under the accusing stare of every cat in the camp, shaking so hard that the bush trembled.

He swallowed hard. _Don’t snap at her._ “What happened, Wildkit?” Stormflight asked again, forcing his growl down. “I’m not upset, just tell me.”

“We were playing,” Wildkit mewed, voice high and tiny, “and I grabbed her scruff like always. And she just—”

“It just scared me,” Leafkit piped up from between Flywing’s front feet. “I’m not hurt. Wildkit’s teeth are sharp and they just poked me.”

_Playfighting._ Relief dulled the sharp-clawed edges of his anger. _That’s all._

“Leafkit isn’t bleeding,” Stormflight announced to the Clan but while making eye contact with Wildkit. “There’s nothing wrong.” He glanced at his Clanmates, who were staring at Wildkit now. “Kits play rough. You all know that. If Leafkit’s not hurt or upset, there’s no reason for you all to be.”

“It’s a matter of time before she actually hurts someone,” Firefall snapped. “She doesn’t belong here.”

“That isn’t your decision to make.” Tuftystar appeared from his den, drawn to his full height. An unusual anger burned in his amber eyes. “When I want to know how you’d run my Clan, Firefall, I won’t hesitate to ask, but for now, decisions of who does and does not belong are not your choice. Go to your nest.”

Firefall stared, mouth agape, as he was scolded like an unruly apprentice. “But—”

“Your leader gave you an order,” Flywing said without looking up. “You’d be wise to listen to him.”

“This isn’t a spectacle—kits will always play rough,” Tuftystar announced. “I am sick of all of the bickering in camp today. Everyone go back to what you were doing. If you cannot get along with one another, take a walk, go on a one-cat patrol, do _something_ that doesn’t require _fighting._ And if any cat has a problem with how I decide to run my Clan, do let me know.”

Stormflight turned back to Wildkit cowering under the bush. He pressed himself to the ground. “Come on, Wildkit, come out from there.”

She shook her head hard. “No.”

“You can’t live under there forever,” he meowed, trying to sound teasing. She looked up over behind his back and flattened her ears. He turned and found Flywing looming over him, her fluffy fur unruffled and her eyes calm.

He braced himself to tell her off too, but she just ducked her head to look at Wildkit. “You can’t play so rough, Wildkit. Leafkit’s the littlest—you, Goldenkit, and Flamekit must remember that. Come out from there.” Her mew was gentle.

“I’m sorry I hurt her,” Wildkit whispered.

“You didn’t hurt her,” Flywing promised. She glanced over to where Leafkit was sitting patiently, her tiny tail stirring the leaves as she watched them. “See? She’s okay. Come on, darling. I’m not upset.”

Wildkit was so still and quiet that Stormflight thought she had grown roots. “Promise?” she finally asked.

“Promise,” Stormflight put in. “It was an accident, and accidents happen.”

Wildkit didn’t look convinced, but she finally pulled herself out from under the bush. She kept low to the ground, but at Flywing’s nudge, she sat up. She _was_ already the size of the apprentices, Stormflight realized, eyeing her long legs and wide shoulders. _She’s twice the size of Goldenkit, and he’s the biggest of their littermates._

A long shadow fell over the camp, and Stormflight looked up to see a vulture spiraling high over their heads. _Couldn’t StarClan have picked a symbol that’s a little less common? Shadows, really?_

_I haven’t had any more visions since we were in BreezeClan. Hopefully, tonight’s night spent in ShoreClan will change that. I need answers._

“Stormflight?”

He started, realizing he’d been staring upwards. He looked back down at Wildkit, who still looked nervous.

“Can I come with you to your den for a while?” she asked in a small voice. Flywing had moved away to lick Leafkit’s head, and Goldenkit was still glaring at the much bigger gold and black kit. Flamekit had been effectively distracted by a late season butterfly.

“Of course, but I have to go visit ShoreClan tonight,” he warned as he moved away. Wildkit trailed him. “So when Frogleap leaves I’ll be leaving with him.”

“Why do you have to go?” she asked, ducking her head to enter the medicine den.

“Medicine cat business,” he replied, glancing about at the mess he’d left his den in. _StarClan, today’s been so long already._

“Can’t you tell me?” Wildkit pressed.

“Nope.” He bent his nose to touch some thyme leaves left to dry. The edges crinkled around his whiskers but the middle was soft. “I’m not allowed to discuss medicine cat business.”

“Why not?” she inquired, surprised.

“StarClan says so.”

That seemed to confuse her, and she sat quiet for a few long heartbeats. Stormflight picked up a poppy head in his teeth and shook it, listening to the lonely rattles of only a couple of seeds. _Need more of these._

“Stormflight, what’s StarClan?”

He fumbled for the poppy head and dropped it. It bounced away, and he pinned it under a paw. Then he turned to her. “Sorry, what?”

Wildkit tipped her head. “I hear every cat talking about StarClan, but I don’t understand it. I was afraid to ask Flywing.”

He took a slow breath. _Remember, she wasn’t born here._ “StarClan is…our ancestors. Those we’ve loved and lost, when they die, they go to StarClan. All of the stars in Silverpelt—each star is a different cat. That’s where I go on the half-moon—I go to the Starpool to speak with our ancestors. We give thanks to them for bountiful prey and good health, and rely on their guidance to keep our paws on the right track.”

Wildkit stared at him. “Is there another name for them?”

“Another—? No, not as far as I know.” He moved his paw off the poppy head. “Why do you ask?”

Her eyes became unfocused. “Well, I feel like I’ve heard some cat call them something else. I don’t know what. But whenever I hear StarClan, it feels like it reminds me of a different word.”

He looked at her while she thought, until she raised a back paw and scratched furiously at an ear. _Could it be from her life before us?_

“Why doesn’t Firefall like me?” she asked before he could quiz her. “He’s always the first cat to say mean things about me.”

“Firefall doesn’t like anything that goes against his normal,” he told her. “You can’t let the things he says get to you.”

“Well, it does!” Her back foot dropped to the ground as she glared at him with a sudden intensity. She looked much older than three moons all at once. “You say it shouldn’t bother me but it does bother me! It bothers me when the cats who are supposed to be my family are mean to me because I’m too big!”

“Wildkit—”

“It isn’t fair!” she cried, rearing up on her back legs only to drop back down again, paws thumping heavily against the floor of the den. “Goldenkit and Leafkit and Flamekit don’t get picked on by the warriors!”

“Wildkit, Firefall is one cat in a Clan of many,” he told her firmly, as she looked like she might cry. “Even if it’s Firefall and Sweetriver and Oakpelt—plenty of cats like you. I do, don’t I? And how about Flywing? Or Skyleap, or Ivypaw and Birdpaw, Barkpaw and Mudpaw?”

She stared angrily down at the ground. “Just because they’re nice to me doesn’t mean that the things Firefall and the others say doesn’t hurt.”

“I know.” He padded forward and pressed his chin to her forehead. “When my mentor, Pinefrost, died, I hadn’t trained under him for very long. I was still an apprentice myself when we lost him. Even though I got my full medicine cat name from him at the Starpool, and I had the support of all of the other medicine cats, plenty of cats still called me an apprentice. A lot of them still will if they’re angry.

“I had all of the other medicine cats supporting me and helping me, I had my mother and father supporting me, plus Tuftystar and Applebranch, but when cats like Flowerear or Duststripe still called me Stormpaw behind my back, it hurt more than their praises helped. Believe me, Wildkit, I _know._ ”

“What do you do?” she mumbled into his chest.

“I have to ignore them,” he explained. “I know that arguing with them won’t do anything but make them angrier and they’ll keep doing it. I just have to prove that they’re wrong.”

She took a deep breath. “So, I have to—to become an apprentice, and become a good warrior, and show them that I’m not too big? That I’m a cat just like them?”

“Exactly. And when you become an apprentice, Tuftystar will give you the best mentor he can—one who’s never doubted you for a heartbeat. You’ll be able to train alongside Goldenkit, Flamekit, and Leafkit, and you’ll be a warrior before you know it.”

“Could I be leader one day?” Wildkit asked.

He purred. “You could be whatever you wanted to be, darling, and I’ll support you the whole way. I promise.”


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stormflight learns some things about Whitestar, the past, and makes yet another enemy.

“What do you need with Fawnstep?” Frogleap asked as they padded through the boreal forest in the fading daylight.

“Medicine cat business,” he answered vaguely.

“She didn’t say anything about you coming to visit,” he pressed. “Didn’t you see her last night?”

“Yes, I did,” Stormflight meowed, frowning to himself as he realized the holes in his plan. “Ah, there’s some information I need from her that I forgot to ask her.”

“What about?”

“Medicine cat business.” _Great StarClan, you’d make a bad mediator, wouldn’t you?_

Frogleap, thankfully, grew quickly bored with questioning him in circles, and settled for, “Your sister is Petalpaw, right?”

“That’s right. You said before you’d seen her, didn’t you?”

He shook his head. “No, Maplewish came to visit us yesterday, and Orchidpaw asked after Featherpaw—their mothers are both from DuskClan, you know, they grew up together. Anyway, Maplewish said that Featherpaw and Petalpaw passed their assessments and they’d been warriored that morning—Featherfall and Petalshade.”

_Petalshade._ A thrill of happiness ran through Stormflight and he curled his tail. _Thankfully Whitestar didn’t put it off for too long._

“Rushsplash came home a couple sunrises ago,” Frogleap continued idly. “He’d been in BreezeClan for a few moons.”

“What prompted him to come home?” Stormflight asked. _Maybe I can ask him about what’s been going on over there._

The messenger shrugged, turning his nose into the air as the boreal forest thinned. A strong wind pressed Stormflight’s whiskers flat against his cheeks. Water, cooled by the setting sun, welled between his toes as they traipsed the edge of the wetlands. Stormflight flicked his paws instinctively.

“Guess he missed the water,” he speculated. “Looks like you haven’t, though.”

Thick-furred Stormflight frowned. “It soaks into my pelt and then I’m not dry for days,” he complained, leaping to a wide rock as Frogleap sank belly deep. “Can we go some way that doesn’t involve the wetlands?”

Frogleap stared at him. “This is the fastest way.”

“Then you go on, and I’ll go around,” Stormflight argued. A chill was already seeping into his fur.

Frogleap worked his paws in the water. “You’ve got no battle training—I can’t just leave you alone.” He tossed his head in frustration after a few moments of hemming and hawing. “Fine. Fine. We’ll go around.”

The moon had crested the horizon when the two toms finally entered ShoreClan’s camp. Many cats were still waiting up to meet Frogleap, and greeted Stormflight with surprise and warmth in their twitching whiskers as he padded in after him.

“Stormflight, what a surprise—why are you here?” Riverstar asked, sitting up. A half-eaten fish sat between her, Heathersong, and Willowtwist. Stormflight took a second in considering his answer as he glanced around ShoreClan’s camp. It had been a long time since he’d been here.

One massive willow tree sat in the middle of the clearing, bent almost horizontal with age, its long tendrils dragging the ground. Reeds and grasses were woven into the long branches, creating solid, warm dens beneath. Reed dens made up most of the barrier of the camp, which itself sat at the crest of a tiny hillock between the two branches of the river. It rarely flooded when the river did, and was safe from almost all predators.

“I’ve come to see Fawnstep,” he finally answered, his gaze landing on their fresh-kill pile. “I apologize for not giving you forewarning—it was a bit of a last-minute decision.” Even though it was mostly fish and one damp water vole, his belly cramped at the thought of food. _I haven’t had a chance to eat since sunhigh._

Riverstar seemed to understand his sentiment, and nodded to him. “Please, help yourself to some dinner. I know dry-paws are not…partial to fish—if I’d known you were planning a visit, I would have had some land prey caught.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” he insisted, not waiting to be told twice as he hurried to the pile. _I’m so hungry I wouldn’t care if it was a frog._

A sleek brown apprentice who was sniffing at the fish backed away as he came up. “Uh—help yourself,” she stammered, eyeing him surprisedly.

“Thanks,” he acknowledged. The vole was flat and clearly from that morning (if not earlier), so he ignored it in favor of a long, thin silver fish. The scales were awkwardly sharp against his teeth, but the fatty flavor of flesh made his mouth water. He glanced around for Fawnstep or Midnightpaw, and upon finding neither of them, glanced quizzically at Riverstar, who was watching him curiously.

“Midnightpaw is already in her nest for the night—she went herb gathering today and wore herself out,” the leader explained, padding to his side. “Fawnstep went on a walk not long before you and Frogleap returned; she should be back soon.”

He nodded, picking a spot near the reed wall to set his fish down. Riverstar trailed him at a bit of a distance.

“Do you mind if I join you?” she asked.

“Not at all,” he replied, ears twitching. As he crouched to take a bite, she settled opposite him with all of her paws tucked under her.

“What brings you to our camp?” she asked. “I know you said you needed to see Fawnstep—the half moon was last night, wasn’t it?”

Stormflight, mouth full of fish, chewed slowly. _If I didn’t tell Tuftystar exactly why I’m here, there’s no reason for me to tell Riverstar and involve the leader of_ another _Clan._

“I received a message from StarClan last night that I’ve not been able to puzzle out myself,” he acquiesced. “I’m just looking to get Fawnstep’s input.”

Her eyes widened marginally. “Oh?”

“Nothing bad,” he insisted upon reading her expression. A scale wedged itself between two of his teeth and made him wince. He raised a claw to pick it out. “Just confusing.”

“I see.” She didn’t seem very convinced, but stood anyway. “I’ll leave you to your dinner, and please do let me know if there’s anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable.”

“Thank you for the fresh-kill,” he meowed.

Riverstar blinked brilliant eyes. “Of course—anything for an esteemed guest. Should I send a patrol to find Fawnstep?”

“No need,” Stormflight insisted. “I’ll see her soon enough.”

She had hardly left when a slim brown tom ducked out from the warriors’ den, stretching in the moonlight. He trotted over, waving his tail excitedly.

“Hey, Stormflight,” Rushsplash greeted, sitting down just opposite him with his paws tucked neatly underneath.

“Rushsplash, how are you? Sorry I didn’t see you when I was in BreezeClan last moon,” he apologized, finally unwedging the scale from between his teeth. He pushed the remains of the picked-clean carcass aside.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” he dismissed, flicking his ears. “I tripped in a rabbit warren and wrenched my shoulder, so Willowfur had me on firm nest arrest anyway. How’s the kit?”

“Wildkit’s doing well,” he purred. “She’s getting along well with Flywing’s kits—you’d hardly know she wasn’t Clanborn.” _Despite how big she’s gotten,_ he thought to himself. He glanced around the clearing, found it mostly empty except for Riverstar and Heathersong murmuring together near the leader’s den. “Can I ask you something?”

Rushsplash’s purr faded. “Frogleap said that you wanted to speak to me. Is it about what’s been happening on the moor?”

Stormflight nodded. Rushsplash sighed slowly and he flicked a glance at his leader. She didn’t seem concerned, and was instead staring up at the sky. Heathersong yawned.

“Whitestar’s never been a very lax leader, like Riverstar tends to be. From what I’ve heard, Tuftystar’s like her too.” If it was a question, he didn’t wait for an answer. “He always demanded a lot from the apprentices, and would oftentimes oversee their assessments himself. I don’t know if you know—I was barely an apprentice when it happened—but when the borders were dissolved, it kept being delayed for moons because Whitestar didn’t agree.”

“Why not?” Stormflight asked.

“I’ve heard—and mind you, this is just what I’ve heard, there’s no evidence behind it—that Whitestar is the kit of a half-Clan relationship, and his parents were ostracized for it. He’s resentful and thinks that a lot of cats are hypocrites, even though that was _moons_ before any cat alive now was old enough to make any decisions.”

Rushsplash looked at him oddly. “I know you and Whitestar bickered—the whole Clan does, for StarClan’s sake. No cat really knows what _about_ , but he was in such a mood after you left that he refused to hold the apprentices’ warrior ceremony. He didn’t say why that night, but the next day, he announced that Petalpaw and Featherpaw—sorry, Petalshade and Featherfall—had failed their assessments, and had to train for another moon.”

“Did their mentors have anything to say about that?” Stormflight demanded. His fur was prickling again.

“Chestnutfur was on the dawn patrol, but Snowbreeze stood up against it, demanding to know why it wasn’t discussed with her, since she had said Featherfall passed. Whitestar gave her some mouse-dung story about how it hadn’t been to his standards. He also said that if she had some issue with how he was leading, she could talk to some cats in BrackenClan.”

“Ah,” he muttered dryly. “I figured as much.”

Rushsplash snorted. “Well, it wasn’t much of a guessing game as to who he was talking about. You were the only BrackenClan visitor we’d had in a quarter moon, and Petalshade and Addersnap mind their own businesses fairly well. Whiskerfur has eyes only for his mate, so he just could not be bothered.”

_So he did put off Petalshade’s ceremony because of me._ Guilt sprung anew in his lungs. _I hope she’s not mad._

“What about him closing the borders?” he asked. Heathersong padded past them with a nod, and Stormflight watched her disappear into the warriors’ den. Riverstar was already gone. Heathersong had barely disappeared before she reappeared.

“Hey, since you’re awake, do you want to take watch tonight?” she asked Rushsplash. “I’ll have Copperclaw take your place on the dawn patrol.”

“Sounds good,” he acknowledged with a nod. She disappeared and they sat quietly for a few moments to be sure. No other cat reappeared.

“Is Fawnstep usually out this late?” Stormflight asked, glancing up at Silverpelt.

“She likes to take late night walks,” he said with a shrug. “It’s always been a quirk of hers.

“But Whitestar announced that he was going to close the borders about a quarter moon before the Gathering,” Rushsplash continued. “He said that it was for the best to give the warriors a break, to let the moorlands replenish themselves and not get overhunted this winter. A lot of cats didn’t believe him, since he wasn’t sending any cats away, but who was going to argue with Whitestar?”

“I did,” Stormflight supplied unhelpfully.

“Yeah, and look where that got us,” Rushsplash chided.

“So what made you come home, then?” he dared ask.

“Well, I guess a couple of reasons.” Rushsplash scratched his ear. “I did miss the marshlands—there’s not a lot of places to swim on the moor. And I’m not really learning much new stuff hanging out on the moorland as a warrior, so I bowed out. But after Whitestar’s scene at the last Gathering, where he only took moor-born cats, a lot of cats went home the next day. I waited for a while to see if things would blow over, but even I finally got tired of the senior BreezeClan warriors making snide remarks.”

His gaze drifted as the reeds shivered. Stormflight fluffed up his fur against the sharp wind.

“Do you—”

“Welcome back, Fawnstep,” the warrior greeted, rising to a sitting position. Stormflight turned to see the narrow, pretty medicine cat ducking back through the reed tunnel. She had a clump of white flowers in her jaws, and she waved her tail as she caught sight of Rushsplash. When Stormflight rose, she paused and set her plants down.

“Stormflight, hi,” she mewed, touching her nose to his. It was cold with early-night dew. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came by for a visit,” he managed vaguely, after a too-long pause. Her ears flicked curiously.

“I’ve got to get to my watch,” Rushsplash commented. “You two head on to the medicine den—I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night, Rushsplash,” they said in unison, and Stormflight picked up Fawnstep’s feverfew.

“Never hurts to have an extra supply,” she explained, “especially heading into leaf-bare. If you let the plants dry, then soaking them in some water revitalizes the leaves, or you can have cats drink the leaf-soaked water and it’ll have a similar effect.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Stormflight whispered as they passed snoring Midnightpaw. She directed him with her tail where to set the plants down, and she sat to wash her paws.

“So why are you really here?” she prompted between licks. “I assume it’s not something to be said around the warriors, given your fumble out there.” When Stormflight glanced at Midnightpaw, Fawnstep snorted. “She sleeps so hard, if she didn’t snore I’d fear she was dead.”

“I’ve been having weird visions,” he relented. She perked up. Briefly, he told her about what he’d seen in his own camp and then in BreezeClan’s, as well as his conversations with Stagfur and Pinefrost. “Pinefrost told me a while back to visit the other camps and see if I have different visions there, but it’s fallen by the wayside.”

“I understand.” Fawnstep nodded, then stretched. “Well, the only spare nest I have is the one out front for sick cats—but I promise the moss is clean,” she added with a purr. “Timberpaw cleaned it out yesterday.”

“I appreciate it,” he promised. “Thanks, Fawnstep.”

“Wake me if you need anything.”

Stormflight’s paws buzzed with energy, despite how high the moon was climbing in the sky. He had to turn in quite a few circles before he settled into the moss, lined with fat reed leaves to keep the moisture out.

He finally put his nose on his paws and sighed hard enough to rustle the moss in front of him, firmly shutting his eyes. _I have to fall asleep._

He must have at some point, because before he knew it, he was jolted awake again by a loud caterwaul. Stormflight jerked upright, choking on his heart which had suddenly leapt into his throat.

“Rushsplash?” he called instinctively, stumbling over himself as he hurried out into the clearing. He drew up short as it suddenly struck him that he was, in fact, having another vision—but this one was much more chaotic than the others.

Starry figures clashed and wrestled in the center of the camp, their yowls distant, like listening to them from hilltops far away. Some of these figures were more solid and defined—he watched one gray tabby slam a black cat to the ground, raising a paw high to deliver a final blow.

He also saw big black shadows like the warrior he’d seen in BreezeClan’s camp, and watched as one leapt high, higher than any small cat, to come down hard on a starry figure that leapt up to meet it. As they fell, the caterwaul that had woken him echoed again, and the fighting jerked to a stop and cats stared toward the center of the camp.

Stormflight nervously padded through the crowd, catching faint whispers and distant cries as he passed. The white cat was motionless on the ground, with the big black figure shaking its head as it backed away.

“Tragic, isn’t it?”

Stormflight turned, unaware for a moment of who spoke. Silhouettes around him vanished and left only one figure sitting just behind him now. The she-cat was so faint that Stormflight could see completely through her, and only the gleam of her stunning green eyes, wild with starshine, showed where she was.

“Who are you?” he asked, dipping his head respectfully, although he couldn’t stop staring. “My name is Stormflight.”

“Long ago, I was the leader of ShoreClan. My name is Salmonstar.” She rose to her paws and loped up to him. They were the same height, from what he could tell, although her fur was much thicker and her tail only half as long. “It is good to meet you, Stormflight. Where are you from?”

“I, uh, I was born in BrackenClan, in the boreal woods,” he stammered. Salmonstar nodded slowly.

“Watch what happens next,” she finally told him, pointing with a paw. He turned back around. One black shadow emerged from the crowd and Salmonstar leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Let me show you what it looked like so many seasons ago.”

“Wh—”

Her paw stepped down over his, and a chill like ice plunged into the depths of his bones. With a gasp, the world spun away just to spin back again. Quite suddenly, the shadows and shapes were no longer just that—they were living, breathing, _grieving_ cats, battle-worn and crying. The sun was sinking just past its zenith, all the trees around them thick with greenleaf. One tree that hadn’t been there before clawed at the sky now, although most of its branches were bare.

“You killed Thornfur!” one cat wailed, and Stormflight finally got his first good look at the once-shadowy figure. He was most definitely cat-like, although he stood twice as tall as his Clanmates, almost taller. His mottled fur was thick and heavy, with massive paws and a short bob of a tail. His face was wide and flat with long whiskers and huge teeth. His big ears had long tufts of fur trailing off the tips, not unlike Tuftystar’s but much heavier.

“I didn’t—intend to,” he said, and his voice rumbled deeper than Stormflight had ever heard a cat speak. It was edged with some sort of strange accent that he couldn’t place. “She just—”

“Just nothing!” Another big cat stepped forward, much the same but with slightly narrower shoulders. She unsheathed wicked claws that tore into the dirt like it was water. “You killed my Clanmate!”

“An honorable warrior does not have to kill to win a battle!” another unseen cat growled, and a chorus of grieving, agreeing snarls rose from the crowd.

“Let me show you the same kindness you showed her!” the big she-cat cried, pushing off with massive hind legs and crashing into the big tomcat. They fell to the ground in a writhing bundle, toppling over one another and all but crushing a bush as they rolled against it.

“Stop!” the Salmonstar who was not standing at Stormflight’s side yowled, leaping up onto cracked willow stump at the edge of the clearing. She had sleek gray fur, although a patch was torn out of one shoulder and one leg was bloodied.

“This was a battle we should not have fought,” his companion murmured in his ear. He glanced at her to find her staring sadly at her Clan. “I recall not what spurred it any longer. DuskClan and ShoreClan had never been particularly good friends, and we finally just…snapped.”

“Was Thornfur from your Clan?” he asked.

She turned those intense green eyes on him. “Does it matter?”

He looked back to watch the two big cats wrestle. Two more big cats paced around them, with the smaller Clan cats hanging back a fair distance.

_There’s no way the smaller cats could break them up,_ he thought, watching with bated breath as the she-cat was batted off with powerful back paws, only to recover quickly and leap back onto her companion.

“We called them battlecats.”

“Sorry?” he asked, looking back at Salmonstar.

“Do you recognize them?” she asked. “They’re lynxes.”

_Lynxes._ Stormflight’s mouth fell open as he gazed with new knowledge upon the creatures that had only existed in elder’s tales. He had always pictured them more foxlike—not quite as feline as they appeared.

“Are they—cats?” he inquired.

“Most definitely,” she confirmed. “They joined our Clans one harsh leaf-bare, not long after I was born. Lynxes are built for the most vicious winters, and were able to hunt things as big as deer. Do you know how long an entire deer feeds a Clan?”

He shook his head numbly. One of the circling lynxes tried to jump into the fray, but got a sharp claw to the nose. Red blood sprayed the ground, and he stumbled backwards.

“So they grew with us, took mates in other lynxes, had kits in the Clan or out of it—after all, only a few lynxes decided to join the Clans, and in order to find mates, many would leave in newleaf and return during greenleaf.”

Her words trailed off. “We called them battlecats because we feared no enemy when they were on our side. After all, what animal would fear a cat as vicious as a bear and as big as a fox? We never went hungry, never lost cats to badgers, foxes, caribou, hawks…”

“What happened?”

The wrestling cats suddenly fell apart, and the tom collapsed to the ground in a puddle of blood. After a few staggering, unsteady moments, the she-cat followed suit.

Salmonstar swallowed thickly, and with her wavering focus, the wailing faded to echoes. The edges of the memory started to blur with time again. “Foxclaw and Smokespirit fought until their last breath. After that, the lynxes decided that they didn’t belong in the Clans. We lost three brave warriors that day, and several more as the lynxes left. We never saw them again.”

“But—if they lived in the Clans, why are they scary in the stories we’re told?” he asked, swallowing down the coppery fear in the back of his throat. Two medicine cats rushed forward, dropping herbs as they went. “Why are we told that they eat kits?”

“Look at what happened here,” she meowed. “We had to make sure future generations feared them so our mistakes were not repeated. There is no room in the world for cats and lynxes to live together.”

Stormflight stared for a long time before he realized Salmonstar was staring intently at him. “What?”

“There is _no room_ ,” she repeated firmly, and a ball of ice settled in Stormflight’s stomach as a realization hit him.

“Wildkit—is a _lynx?_ ” he gasped out. _That explains so many things—her size, her strange accent, her fur and her paws and her tail—_

“You mustn’t let her stay,” Salmonstar said, and it took a few panicked heartbeats for her statement to register. When it did, anger replaced his fear.

“ _What?”_ he demanded.

“Do you want this to happen again?” she asked, pointing with her nose. “To your Clanmates?”

“Wildkit isn’t a threat!” he shouted, voice soaring. “She’s a kit!”

“Did she not hurt her littermate today?” Salmonstar countered.

“They’re _kits,_ they _roughhouse_ , that’s how they _learn!”_ Stormflight stepped away from her. As their paws separated, the vision spun away, leaving them in the empty moonlit clearing. He felt sick. “I can’t cast her out to die!”

“So you’ll condemn your Clanmates instead?” she argued.

“She’s my Clanmate too! And as a medicine cat, it’s my _duty_ to protect every cat in need, regardless of birth Clan or anything else!” He bristled and bared his teeth. “You can’t condemn a baby for something a bunch of old cats did!”

“History is cyclical, Stormflight,” Salmonstar warned. “You cannot see the shadows when you stare into the sun.”

“Shut _up_ about that already!” He threw his head back and yowled to the silent stars, “Wildkit isn’t a threat! I will not abandon her!”

And by the time he looked back down, Salmonstar was gone.

Left alone, Stormflight staggered to the reeds and vomited.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited visit to BreezeClan - how will Whitestar respond when Tuftystar is the one confronting him this time?
> 
> And then, someone comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my long hiatus!! This whole pandemic thing has been ROUGH with trying to balance it with school, work, and family. I've had a few health complications (nothing COVID related, thankfully!), both physical and mental, and I could not break myself out of the writer's block funk I found myself in.
> 
> This chapter is /really/ long to make up for my hiatus. Enjoy, all! And thanks for sticking around!

Stormflight got no sleep the rest of the night, and woke Fawnstep just before the dawn patrol left, whispering to her that he was headed home. She sleepily bade him farewell, and it was only when he turned his back that she called to him suddenly.

“Did you dream?” she asked, peering at him in the barely-there light. Unsure what to say, Stormflight stared at her for a long time, trying to convey something his words seemed unable to. She sat up slowly, amber eyes wide.

“Can I help?” she inquired, clearly picking up on his distress if nothing else.

“No,” he managed. “Thank you, but no.”

“If that changes, let me know,” Fawnstep insisted. “Please.”

Stormflight left without acknowledging her plea. Rushsplash was half in, half out of the warriors’ den, and the medicine cat bounded out through the reeds before he was spotted. He didn’t have the energy to speak to any cat.

Stormflight borderline ran back to his own territory, alternating between a quick lope and flat-out sprinting, only stopping when his lungs and legs burned. Anxiety was eating his belly alive, and he felt like he was going to vomit again.

_I have to see Wildkit. I want to see Wildkit._

Even though dawn was well past when he reached the camp, he managed to avoid seeing the dawn patrol, hunting patrol, or even Jaysong, whose scent trail he found heading toward DuskClan. His paws slid on the leaf litter as he crested the ravine, and slithered halfway down the hill before catching his footing again.

He ducked into camp, panting, and found Tuftystar and Applebranch talking over what was left of the fresh-kill pile. Ignoring their greetings (not entirely intentionally), he pushed into the nursery and almost tripped over Skyleap, who was asleep near the entrance with Leafkit. A quick scan showed Goldenkit and Flamekit balled up with Flywing, but no Wildkit.

His belly cramping, Stormflight spun around and whisked back into the clearing.

“Where’s Wildkit?” he demanded of his leader and deputy, both of whom were staring at him with their mouths agape.

“I—saw her go into your den last night,” Applebranch tried, “but—!”

Stormflight cut him off with a quick lash of his tail, crossing the clearing in a few quick bounds and breaking through the fern curtain of his den. A rustle in his nest sounded and a sleepy Wildkit sat up, scraps of moss clinging to her thick fur.

“Stormflight?” she croaked, turned into a high squeal as he almost barreled her over, circling her in the nest and dropping down beside her. He pulled her under one paw and licked her ears roughly. “Hey!”

_I won’t ever let anything happen to you. Salmonstar was wrong. StarClan is wrong sometimes. You couldn’t hurt a fly. My sweet, precious Wildkit._

“I just missed you,” he coughed out as she finally batted him away with big paws. “That’s all.”

“Stop it!” She sat up in the nest, staring fiercely at him. “You smell like fish,” she retorted.

His anxiety melted away and he purred, headbutting her. “You don’t smell much better,” he teased.

_Of course she’s safe. Tuftystar wouldn’t let anything happen. Not in his camp._

She looked at him for a long time. “Did something happen when you were away?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I just had to eat fish for dinner.”

Her nose wrinkled. “That’s why you’re stinky, then.”

“Did you tell Flywing you were going to be out all night?” Stormflight scolded lightly. “Don’t you think she might worry when she wakes up and you’re not there?”

Wildkit looked away. “She won’t care,” she muttered.

All of his anxiety returned in a flash. “Wh—Of course she will,” he told her.

“Maybe _she_ will,” she amended, “but Goldenkit and Flamekit won’t.”

“Did you bicker?” he asked as she stepped out of the nest, shaking fiercely and scattering moss scraps and dust.

“Kinda, I guess.” She shrugged, sitting with her back to him. “Goldenkit’s still mad about yesterday.”

He looked at her for a long time before he remembered. “With Leafkit?”

Wildkit nodded once. “He told me I was too big to stay in the nursery, and that I was taking up all the room in the nest.”

Stormflight sat up. “Did you tell Flywing?”

She shook her head.

“Well, why not?”

“She’d defend her actual kits before she defended me,” she mewed, and her voice cracked slightly.

“Wildkit, what happened when I left?” he asked.

Her shoulders hunched. “I don’t want you to get mad again,” she whispered. “Like yesterday.”

Stormflight hadn’t thought much about his outburst at his Clanmates, but recalled it suddenly, except this time from outside his own furious head. He winced as he thought about how it must have looked to the rest of his Clanmates, and especially to already terrified Wildkit.

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper, and I’m so sorry if I scared you,” he said, tail twitching nervously. “I wasn’t mad at you, though, you know that, right? I was mad at Firefall.”

“I-I do,” she answered, “but Goldenkit told me that—that I wasn’t cut out to be a warrior if I had to hide behind you.”

_I do not like Goldenkit,_ he thought suddenly, and was surprised. _Where did that come from?_

“What did Flamekit and Leafkit say? Did they hear what he said?”

“Flamekit didn’t say anything.” Her mew turned bitter. “Flamekit never says anything when Goldenkit’s around. Leafkit told him he was being a mousebrain. I don’t know what he said after that—I came in here. I didn’t talk to them last night.”

_Maybe that’s why Leafkit wasn’t in the nest with them._

“He _was_ being a mousebrain,” Stormflight insisted, rising and taking a step toward her. When she didn’t move away, he sat beside her. Her big gold eyes were focused on her paws, one of which she trapped a dry leaf under. “Even if Goldenkit’s angry, Leafkit isn’t, right?”

Wildkit nodded. “I guess.”

“You can’t be friends with everyone,” Stormflight admitted. “And that’s the unfortunate truth. I’m so sorry you keep bickering with Goldenkit. But you can’t hide from him forever.”

“I can try.”

“You won’t succeed.” He touched her ear with his nose. “Next time he does something like that, don’t listen to him. I’m not talking about metaphorically,” he continued as she opened her mouth to protest. “Walk away from him. Don’t even acknowledge him.”

She finally looked up. “Will that work?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “You won’t know until you try. Try to be strong, darling. When you become apprentices, you won’t have to bother with him much anymore. I promise.”

“Okay.” She seemed a little happier now that she had a plan of attack, even though the look in her eyes showed she wasn’t fully convinced, and stood up. She was all legs and almost as tall as Stormflight. “I’ll go back so Flywing doesn’t worry.”

“Good plan.” He nudged her shoulder. “And if that fails, you can always tell me and I’ll beat him up.”

Wildkit purred and bounced out of the medicine den. Stormflight followed more slowly. When he emerged back into the clearing, he watched the kitten push back into the den, and a high greeting mew from Leafkit spilled out behind her.

“Stormflight,” Tuftystar called, beckoning with his tail. The medicine cat loped over to them, sparing one glance at the nursery—he couldn’t see inside for the shadow—as he passed.

“Are you alright? I thought you were being chased by a fox for how frantic you seemed,” Applebranch asked as he sat down, completing their trio.

“Sorry about that,” he apologized. “I…” Failing to come up with a good excuse, he shook his head. “Are we leaving soon?”

“I was going to wait until Applebranch organized the sunhigh patrols, and then we would leave on their tails,” Tuftystar explained, eyeing the medicine cat strangely. “Do you need to eat?”

He could still taste the bile in the back of his throat, killing any semblance of hunger he’d had before. He shook his head again. _I’ll take some traveling herbs before we leave so I don’t pass out._

“I’m going to try to take a nap before we go, if that’s alright,” Stormflight said, standing and stretching. Now that his anxieties had been mostly quelled, exhaustion was pulling at every muscle in his body. “Feel free to wake me whenever you need to.”

The two toms murmured agreement, and he could feel the weight of Tuftystar’s stare on his back as he padded away, trying with significant effort to not let his tail or shoulders slump under the weight of his tiredness.

Stormflight was almost asleep before he even hit his nest. This time, StarClan let him rest without dreaming.

“Why are we waiting?” Applebranch asked, his tail twitching restlessly through the leaves thick on the ground. Stormflight paced in another tight circle around a blackberry bush, sniffing at the stubs of branches where he’d bit them off moons prior. They seemed to have healed well and new growth, stunted by the late season, was poking through in several places.

“If Whitestar has installed border patrols, it must be for a reason,” Tuftystar reasoned, eyes narrowed and ears forward as he stared over the sweeping flatlands. His tail was pulled neatly over his paws, fur stirred by the sharp wind blowing from the moor. “If we have any chance at diplomacy, we must respect his boundaries, however ridiculous we believe them to be.”

Applebranch twitched his ears, clearly disagreeing, but didn’t argue.

“What if we don’t run into a patrol?” Stormflight asked, pulling a clump of wilted leaves off his carefully tended bush. “What if that was a one-off?”

Tuftystar inhaled slowly. “I had to argue for moons with Whitestar about the borders being dissolved in the first place. It was _not_ a one-off.”

Stormflight finally sat down between the two other toms, fluffing his heavy fur up against the sharp wind, and stared across the moor. Carried on the wind, the low bellow of a caribou echoed faintly.

“There,” Tuftystar finally said, rising to his paws. Stormflight, who had disappeared into his own head, was jerked back with a start. Applebranch stood immediately.

“Finally,” he sighed, stretching.

Stormflight craned his neck and saw a black tail-tip poking up from the tall grasses, and just behind it, a black and white cat leapt high from the grass, clearing it easily before dropping back down. A second before they disappeared, their eyes met Stormflight’s.

“I think they saw us,” Stormflight meowed. The black tail-tip changed course and made a beeline for the shallow creek that made the border, and in just a second, Eagleshadow and Waspwing pulled themselves out of the grass and stood facing the boreal forest.

“Greetings,” Tuftystar called, flicking his tail jovially. “We’d like to speak with Whitestar, if we may.”

Waspwing frowned. “We aren’t really supposed to bring other cats back to the camp.”

Eagleshadow gave him a look that Stormflight couldn’t decipher. “Who are we to tell another leader what to do?” he replied, and although his tone was sharp, Stormflight got the distinct impression that it was not directed at Waspwing. Applebranch didn’t seem to miss it either, as his tail lashed hard enough that it collided with Stormflight’s haunch.

Unrattled, Tuftystar took a pace forward. “I promise it won’t be long.”

“Is it a matter that cannot wait til the Gathering?” Waspwing insisted. He seemed nervous.

“It is,” Tuftystar affirmed.

Eagleshadow and Waspwing stared at each other for a long time before Eagleshadow rolled his eyes and spun around. “Come on, then,” he growled, doing nothing to hide his disdain any further. “But it’d better be _quick._ ”

Tuftystar jumped the creek first, Applebranch and Stormflight following. Eagleshadow led the way through the dry grass, and Waspwing followed close behind Stormflight’s tail.

“It’s good to see you again,” Stormflight offered to the black-and-white tom. Waspwing blinked neutrally at him but said nothing.

_Well, it’s better than him being hateful,_ he conceded, and followed Applebranch’s tail in silence. _Can’t say the same for Eagleshadow._

_Of course, he’s always been a pain in the tail._

When they emerged onto the rise above the camp, Eagleshadow paused to make eye contact with Waspwing.

“Why don’t you run ahead and tell Whitestar we’ve got guests?” he meowed. Waspwing avoided the BrackenClan cats’ eyes and hurried down the rise, breaking into a sprint and disappearing into the brush that made up the camp wall.

“I’m sure Whitestar will be looking forward to meeting with you,” he continued, staring directly at Stormflight. _Again_ hung unsaid in the air, but the medicine cat refused to dignify it with a comment, instead turning away and following his leader and deputy down the hillock.

Whitestar was positioned in the center of the clearing when they pushed into the camp, Tuftystar at the lead and Eagleshadow bringing up the tail. Around the clearing, most tucked into the grasses and den shadows, the warriors and apprentices of BreezeClan were gathered in loose clumps, watching silently.

Willowfur was the only one to bravely meet Stormflight’s gaze, greeting him with an easy nod. Waspwing cast one vaguely apologetic look at Stormflight, who flicked an ear in response, before slinking off to sit next to Chestnutfur. Petalshade was nowhere to be found.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Tuftystar?” Whitestar asked, his mew short and cold. It seemed to bring Tuftystar up short in surprise, although that was the only indication he gave of being thrown.

“Would you like to take this somewhere private, White—?”

“You can say what you want to say in front of my Clan,” he interrupted. Applebranch stiffened. Stormflight swallowed his surprise at the blatant disrespect. The assembled cats of BreezeClan muttered amongst themselves.

“Of—course. Well, I simply came to clear the air of some sort of misunderstanding between our Clans.” Tuftystar sat down diplomatically, wrapping his tail around his paws. Stormflight and Applebranch followed suit after glancing at each other.

“About a moon ago, a small patrol consisting of two of my senior warriors ventured to the moor to visit BreezeClan and meet with their kin. They were turned away by, and to use their words exactly, a _border patrol._ ”

Whitestar blinked slowly.

Tuftystar cleared his throat. “Yesterday, our messenger was turned away halfway into your territory, and was forced to return home empty-pawed.”

The big white tom still did not move.

“Now, when the borders were dissolved and the new code was created,” Tuftystar continued, shoulder fur prickling at the prolonged silence, “we all agreed that messengers, mediators, and medicine cats had, without question, unadulterated access to every territory no matter the circumstance. Of course, it’s crucial for the spread of news that the messengers are able to travel, is it not?”

Lynxtail stood up from where she sat near the warriors’ den and padded up to Whitestar’s side. She stretched up and said something softly in his ear, although he seemed not to acknowledge her. In the silence, the whistling of the cold wind was deafening.

Stormflight felt like he was about to spring out of his pelt, the atmosphere was so tense, when Whitestar shattered it by speaking.

“I respect you, Tuftystar,” he meowed. “I wish for our relationship to remain unharmed. However, you remember as well as I do what life was like before the dissolution of the old ways.”

“Of course I do,” Tuftystar replied, surprised. “Most cats do.”

“Do you not agree that things were easier then?”

“ _What?_ ” Applebranch burst out before he could stop himself. A hiss burst from the BreezeClan crowd, although that was the only response. Lynxtail looked away from Applebranch. Stormflight grew cold. _Is he serious?_

“I’m inclined to agree with my deputy,” Tuftystar stammered. “I would argue that things are easier and more peaceful _now_ than ever, Whitestar.”

“What about Hawkshadow and Leopardnose, and their kits?” Whitestar asked, eyebrows raised. “Kits should be with their mother’s Clan. Had she not taken a mate in another Clan, we would not have had to quarrel for a moon about where the kits belonged, and then lost them anyway.”

Stormflight saw Kestrelclaw drop his head, and then the mediator stood and vanished into the warriors’ den. _I bet this isn’t the first time he’s heard this argument._

“That was settled by the mediators,” Tuftystar argued, shaking his head.

“Settled?” Whitestar echoed, mew rising. “Hardly settled! Butterflyfoot only was able to con us out of two strong Clanmates by convincing _your_ mediator that BreezeClan didn’t need them!”

“I’ve not come to argue with you about the kits!” Tuftystar snapped, then took a deep breath as another rumble spread through the camp. “I’ve come to ask why you’ve decided, independently of the rest of the leaders, to revert back to the old code.”

Whitestar twitched his tail. “BreezeClan is and always has been stronger on our own, without relying on other Clans for their sympathies, support, and kittens. Plus, it’s been made _quite clear_ what you think of how I run my Clan.”

Stormflight went cold when Whitestar looked deliberately at him. “Isn’t that right, Stormflight?”

Tuftystar swung to stare at him, obviously perplexed. It took everything Stormflight had to meet Whitestar’s gaze without flinching, although his claws were dug into the dirt so firmly that his paws ached.

“I’m not the one who forced Jaysong to lie to us about Stagfur,” he said without thinking. A loud cry of outrage burst from the assembled cats, echoed by Applebranch, who rose to his feet in fury.

Tuftystar stood as well. “You _purposefully_ withheld information from our messenger?” he demanded.

“What business is it of the forest Clans?” Whitestar retorted. “The caribou do not threaten you like they do us.”

“How long did you keep it from DuskClan, then?” Applebranch snarled. “Stagfur’s daughter is there!”

“She became a Clan traitor the second she took a mate in another Clan,” Eagleshadow growled before his leader could, earning a chorus of agreeing meows.

“DuskClan learned at the Gathering, just as they used to do before you all decided that the old code was broken and must be fixed,” Whitestar snapped. “No cat used to complain about not being able to _gossip_ at all times. That was reserved for Gatherings, and Gatherings alone. Our business is ours and your business is yours, and I do not appreciate BrackenClan constantly shoving their snouts where they do not belong.”

Tuftystar said something to Applebranch that Stormflight couldn’t catch, and with a tremendous effort, Applebranch sat back down. Tuftystar followed suit.

“I did not come to argue,” Tuftystar repeated once the noise in the camp had died down. “I merely came to hear you out and get answers, which I have done.”

“There must be something else you wanted from this,” Whitestar argued, tail flicking in irritation, “or you, a _leader_ , would not have come all this way.”

“I wished to repair our relations, yes,” Tuftystar admitted, “but you’ve made it abundantly clear that that will not be achieved today. I will be certain to tell Jaysong not to visit any longer until we make more headway. I will make sure Stormflight and Aspenbloom also know they aren’t to visit, and neither are my warriors or apprentices.”

Whitestar frowned but was silent.

“I will not place the same restrictions,” Tuftystar continued, then swept his gaze over the assembled cats. “BrackenClan has always been and will remain open to any and all cats—warriors, apprentices, mediator, messenger, and all others, regardless of birth—who wish to join us in the forest. Our borders remain open as always. As well, your Clanmates still enjoy the freedom to come home should they desire.”

“Lynxtail, escort them to the border,” Whitestar ordered. “Take Eagleshadow and Robinspots with you.”

Lynxtail nodded once, gesturing to the BrackenClan cats with her plumy tail. “Come.”

“Well met, Whitestar,” Tuftystar acknowledged, dropping his head in a respectful nod that Stormflight and Applebranch copied but did not mean. Whitestar didn’t reply.

Eagleshadow took up position behind Stormflight, all but shoving him out of the camp. He didn’t have a chance to look behind him as he was bustled out of the grass tunnel.

The patrol was prickly with tension as they carved their way silently through the shoulder-high grasses. Stormflight could all but taste the tension pouring off his leader and deputy as they followed Lynxtail at a respectful distance. Robinspots tailed Eagleshadow, tasting the air occasionally. Stormflight didn’t notice that she’d stopped until she called out a ‘hold’.

Lynxtail turned over her shoulder, ears pricked, and the BrackenClan cats followed suit. Bounding through the grasses, tail and head low, was Petalshade. Stormflight’s heart soared.

“What do you want?” Eagleshadow growled. Stormflight hissed softly. The black tom ignored him. Petalshade drew up to a stop, her chin held high.

“I’m going home with my brother,” she snapped, her voice uncharacteristically cold. “Is that _alright_ with you, _Eaglestar?_ ”

Robinspots snorted but turned it into a cough. Eagleshadow snarled.

“If you leave now, you cannot come back,” Lynxtail warned her. “You know that.”

“I’m fully aware,” Petalshade responded far more respectfully, nodding. “I’d like to return home.”

“Let’s go, then.” Lynxtail turned and continued onwards. Tuftystar blinked happily at Petalshade as she stepped up to Stormflight’s side. He headbutted his sister’s shoulder lightly, and she gave a wordless mew in response.

Lynxtail left them at the border, watched them cross the stream, and sent Eagleshadow and Robinspots on their way with a curt word. She waited until their scents had started to fade before sighing and facing Tuftystar and Applebranch.

“There is nothing I can say that will make you less rough on Whitestar. I know that,” she began. “Just know that his views, while mirrored by quite a few cats in the Clan, are not shared by all.”

“I do not hold Whitestar’s behavior against any individual but Whitestar,” Tuftystar promised.

“If there is news regarding your Clanmates Whiskerfur or Addersnap, I will be certain to either send Maplewish, or send news with Willowfur at the half-moon.” The last part of this sentence was directed at Stormflight, who nodded.

“May StarClan light your path, Petalshade,” she added.

“May the caribou scare prey straight into your paws,” Petalshade replied with a purr. Lynxtail flicked her tail and vanished back into the grass.

Once they were out of sight of the border, Tuftystar sighed and sat down, pressing his forehead against a nearby tree. “That could not, I believe, have gone much worse.”

Stormflight pressed his forehead to Petalshade’s, inclined to agree.


End file.
